A descent like no other
by FlamingMaple
Summary: When her mother's death precipitates a move to Forks, and Charlie's custody, things go from bad to worse, and Bella begins a descent like no other into hidden human, and then supernatural worlds. Set at the beginning of the Twilight saga, Bella meets Edward in entirely different circumstances. (ExB) HEA. Angst & triggers. PM me if concerned. Updates weekly.
1. Death

A/N for A warning - this story deals with several heavy topics, and is rated M for several reasons. I don't post 'trigger' warnings, as they frequently spoil the plot, so PM me for details if you're concerned.

Timeline: While set at the beginning of Twilight, canon events have been shifted in places so that some occur earlier, others later.

Editing: This story was unbeta'd except for the last few chapters. You will find typos and other errors as you read. I have no plans to edit and repost the story at this time. Someday, perhaps. Time is too precious these days.

I recently reread this story, cringe-worthy proofreading errors and all, and can't say I would write the same story again. I see things now that I missed in the thick of it, and want to change things that seemed so crucial and iron-clad while initially writing. If you find something redeeming herein, lovely. If not, ah well.

Happy reading folks, but buckle up. It's a rough ride!

~ Erin

* * *

 _March_

"Do you know where you're going?" Charlie asked Bella. He looked awkward, not used to company at home.

"Yeah, I got it," she said, trying to make herself smile reassuringly.

"OK, I'll see you close to five, alright?" He stood, grabbing his jacket and gun belt.

She nodded, putting her own dish away.

"Be careful—the roads are slipperier than you'll be used to."

"Sure," she mumbled, hoping his worrying wouldn't be permanent. She'd arrived on Saturday, and as of eight AM Monday, she was growing weary of it already.

"Love you," he added, more softly, and then turned and hustled out of the front door. Bella's heart sort of clenched in on itself. Those had been her mother's last words, spoken in too similar circumstances.

Nothing bad is going to happen to him, she told herself. Just relax.

She tried to, climbing into the truck he'd bought for her. Billy's son Jacob had shown her how to run it, and she rehearsed these things now, starting up its rumbling engine.

The high school was impossible to miss, perched up on the hill overlooking the highway, and she parked in one of its far corners, trying to look, and feel inconspicuous. It was hard, with all the people staring. It was in keeping her head down, eyes focused on the ground in front of her, that was her ultimate undoing. The lip of pavement, obscured by its wetness, caught her foot, and she found herself flying, hands out, only to feel a numbing pain move up to her elbow.

"Oh geez," someone said, coming up to her, "are you OK?"

Bella was too busy trying to get up, to assess where, and how much pain there was, to really pay attention to the face or the name. Feeling where things hurt, she hissed out a "Something's broken." She knew from too many times past, that there was too much pain for it be a sprain, the unnerving click of solid things in flesh confirming it for her.

There were more people now, and she had humiliation and shame to be layered over the growing heat in her arm. The crowd grew until an authoritative adult voice dispersed them with a solid, "Off to class folks."

"You must be Isabella," the man's voice continued.

"Yes," she said, trying to breathe in a way that didn't make things hurt more. She wasn't very successful.

"We're just going to get an ambulance—"

Her face flushed. "Oh, no, I don't need—"

"You need to go to the hospital," the man said, now squatting where she sat. She was starting to shiver from the wet and cold that seeped into her jeans.

At least, she thought, as the siren grew louder, the parking lot was almost empty.

The paramedics greeted her by name. "Swan's kid, huh? Well, we'll let him know you'll be OK."

"Thanks," she muttered, as they helped her inside the ambulance.

The ride was short, as all trips were in in Forks. The town was small and contained, the sprawling wilderness around it making the small place seem even smaller.

The hospital's ER was tiny, too, and the one doctor stationed there as extraordinary a specimen of a man she'd ever seen. He looked to be in his late twenties, but operated with a demeanour that spoke of experience well beyond that. An old soul, she thought, watching him look carefully at her arm before he touched her.

"Hi Isabella," he said gently, "I'm Dr. Cullen, your father warned me I might get to meet you sooner or later." His smile was soft.

She tried to smile back at him, but it was a weak effort.

More quietly, he said, "I'm sorry about the reasons that brought you to Forks, though."

Bella nodded, twitching when Dr. Cullen moved her arm.

"A break in the wrist," he said. "You'll need a cast. But at least it's not your dominant arm," he added, looking at the musculature there.

"Do you have waterproof liners?" she asked.

He chuckled a little. "Yes. I can tell this is not your first experience with them."

"Sadly, no," she sighed. "No offense, but hopefully we won't have to see each other much."

"None taken. I do want an x-ray first, just to make sure we haven't missed anything, and then we'll get your cast going."

X-rayed, poked some more by the sole resident at the hospital, Bella was in the process of having the cast applied when Dr. Cullen stopped moving, abruptly, almost infinitesimally. Then his movements resumed. She wondered if he'd had a twinge in his back. Phil used to get those. He'd pause for a bit, sort of sigh and then get going again.

She swallowed the thought. All the adrenaline from the fall's shock had left her, and she felt wobbly and tired. Susceptible.

There was a knock on the door, and two officers stood there, one Bella recognized faintly—Mark, her brain supplied. The other was a stranger. It seemed odd they were there, instead of her dad. He must be busy—

"Are you almost done, Carlisle?" Mark asked quietly.

"Not just yet," he replied nonchalantly. "Give me a minute." Then he flicked his gaze up to Bella's face, and then back down.

It was quick, but she caught it. She knew the look: pity.

The officers waited, stepping back out of her line of sight.

"Do you know where my dad is?" Bella asked him.

Carlisle paused before answering. "No. I don't."

She nodded, watching him slip the last lip of plaster tape over her arm.

"Just a few weeks with the cast," he said, "and then in for follow-up. I'm going to have you take two of these now for pain."

"Thanks," she mumbled, swallowing them.

"Officers, we're done here," Carlisle said, standing.

"Thanks," Mark said, stepping inside. He looked pale, and he was sweating a little. "Hi Bella," he mumbled, sitting down in the chair Dr. Cullen had vacated.

The doctor was just outside the door, scribbling notes onto a clipboard.

"I'm Officer Mark Barclay."

"I remember," Bella said, "do you know where my dad is?"

"That's why I'm here, Bella."

Then the blood drained out of her face.

This was not good. This was never good, to have police show up, in a pair, in person.

She told herself to not panic, to not think the worst. Just because Renee and Phil—

"I have some bad news."

Suddenly the air felt thin.

"Your father died this morning."

Now there just wasn't enough of it for her lungs.

The doctor was back in the room, trying to talk to her, but the words just slid by her, like things she couldn't recognize. She was hiccoughing and breathing too quickly.

When his words failed, he pulled a paper bag from a drawer and had her breathe into that.

No one said anything for a while.

"How?" she finally choked out.

Mark's face lost its shape for a bit, struggling to keep it professional. "An animal attack. He went out on a call. Someone had seen something strange. When he didn't call back to check-in we went looking."

She cringed, imagining that ending, and how long it would've been.

There were more words that Bella lost between his lips and her ears.

"What?" she finally said, when Mark's hand touched hers.

"I was saying, I called your dad's friends, the Blacks. They're coming here."

"Okay."

"Do you have any other family, Bella, that we can call?"

She shook her head.

"Cousins, distant or otherwise?"

More head-shaking. There was no one. Her parents had been only children. If there were other family members, she didn't know of them.

"How old are you Bella?"

"Seventeen," she mumbled.

"I'll need to notify social services on your behalf. Do you want to stay with the Blacks, for now?"

The utter, life-shifting reality that Charlie's death had brought was hitting her. "Yeah," she rasped out. "I can stay with them for a bit, I think."

"Billy was like family to your Dad, Bella. I'm sure they'll have a place for you."

There were tears waiting for escape, and she nodded, trying to hold them in.

Mark and his unnamed colleague waited, speaking to Billy when he arrived, Jacob pushing his father's wheelchair.

Billy, fortunately, did not make any demands with words, only opening his arms for Bella, where she accepted his hug.

Jacob's embrace was fierce, his immense size dwarfing her petite one.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded, still not able to speak.

"Let's stop by the house and get what you need for tonight, hey? We'll come back tomorrow to get more." Billy said, once they were in the car.

The next days were a familiarly uneasy haze, this time Billy, instead of Renee's friend Rachel, busy with phone calls and paperwork. He was stolid, working through what was needed methodically.

On Thursday morning, Bella found him at the table swearing at the phone, trying to talk with the life insurance company. He wound up slamming down the receiver.

"Don't worry about it," she said, "I'll be eighteen soon enough. Most of this will keep 'til then."

Billy snorted. "Don't mind me. I'm just grumpy dealing with phone calls."

"So don't. I'll be fine."

"Bella," Billy chided her, "I'd be some friend, leaving you to this mess. When Sarah died," he sighed, "it was bad enough to have to do it, let alone on top of the grief. Let me spare you that."

Bella chewed on her words before speaking. "We're strangers, really, Billy. I know you were my Dad's friend—"

"Oh no, kid. Family isn't just made by blood. You—"

"I'm not family, Billy, but I appreciate your help. I'll handle it though, when I'm eighteen."

Billy looked at her before replying. "If that's what you want, Bella."

"It is."

The funeral was on the Saturday. She sleep-walked through most of it, accepting the many condolences from strangers who had called Charlie friend.

It was tougher work, rising to the surface of her shock on the Monday, calling social services. Mark had put off the social worker, explaining Bella had a place to stay.

Billy was shocked when she told him the social worker would be coming by to see her.

"Why?" he asked, keeping his voice low. Jake was sleeping. He'd seemed to do nothing but sleep almost the entire week she'd been there.

"They'll need to arrange a placement for me," she said.

His voice was incredulous. "Bella, you have a place here. I know it's not the nicest—"

"It's not that," she said quickly, "and I can't thank you enough for all your help, for taking me in like this—"

"There's no time limit on that. You're welcome here for as long as you want."

"Thank you," she said, but knew he only said it out of loyalty for her father. She didn't want to test that obligation, be a burden to a family that didn't really want her. It would be better to go to a placement. It wouldn't even be for a year. She could get a job in the summer, save some money, get her own place. The will and the life insurance would take some time to settle, but she'd be able to start college relatively soon after graduation.

"If I'm going to college, it'll be in Seattle, so it would be better if I was there getting settled, and," she moved her hand around the space in front of her, "it's hard...to be here."

Billy nodded, sighing. She could see he understood.

"You're always welcome here, Bella. Always."

Her eyebrows flexed together, and instead of words, she dipped her head in the air.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


	2. Placed

A/N for 2018-08-29: Well. I was kinda worried that the first chapter didn't have much traction. Clearly, many of you thought otherwise. A warning: the angst monster is in full swing. Things are gonna get darker, before we hit the upside of this story. I promise you a particular, sparkly vampire in a few more chapters.

Thank you, as always for reading, reacting and reviewing.

~ Erin

(new FB handle!) AT FlamingMapleWrites

FlamingMaple on Tumblr

AT EAffleck on Twitter

* * *

The social worker in Forks had seen her to the bus, telling Bella that Jeff Allingham, her new social worker, would meet her at the depot in Seattle. She'd insisted she didn't need Billy and Jacob to wait to see her off, and with reluctance, they'd agreed, promising her again that they'd make sure the house was taken care of in her absence. She'd wanted to sell it, but Billy had talked her out of it, saying she needed to have somewhere to call home.

She'd been to Seattle a few times, but not for several years, and the skyline looked large, and intimidating, as it clarified on the ferry ride.

Jeff was waiting for her at the depot, arms folded, bag of paperwork slung over his shoulder. "Isabella?" he called, seeing her look around. He didn't wave, but jerked his head towards the benches beside him.

"I'm Jeff," he said, sitting down, giving her the most fleeting of eye contact.

"Hi," she said, a little awkwardly.

"I've got a placement for you with a family. They have a son your age, and've had a coupl'a successful foster placements." He showed her a piece of paper with names, an address on it, looking at her.

"OK."

"Great." He stood. "Ready?"

That was it? Bella thought. Name, address and here you go?

"Um, sure."

"Any questions?"

She shook her head. "Not now. Can I call you if I do?"

"Sure," he shrugged, not offering to help her with her bags. "This way."

When he looked back, frowning at her slow progress, he rolled his eyes and came back to grab one of the bags.

She struggled behind him, trying to keep up in the crowded space, eventually making their way to his car. The front seat had a stack of folders, which he moved out of the way, sweeping the dirt off the upholstery. It smelled damp, and mildewy. She tried to keep her nose from wrinkling.

They pulled up at a small bungalow just off of a major road.

"Not sure where you're from, but this is not a place you go wandering out alone at night. 'Specially not for a girl your age."

Bella said nothing, absorbing this information, feeling less easy about her decision to come here.

"I'll introduce you to the March's. C'mon." He again pulled out one of her bags, leaving her with the rest.

Moving ahead, he knocked on the door, looking at his clipboard when a woman answered. "Hi, Jennifer?"

"Jen," she said. "Jeff?"

"Yup, we talked on the phone, right?"

"Yeah. You're Isabella?" she asked, looking over his shoulder at Bella, who was huffing her way up the cracked walkway.

"Just Bella."

"Well, come in. No use heating the outside."

Bags and people just inside the door, Jeff presented the clipboard to Jen. "Sign here. Great. OK, Bella. Good luck."

Then he turned around, and left.

Bella really hoped she'd been stuck with a crappy social worker, because she couldn't imagine kids more fragile than her being dumped at a stranger's door like this.

"He's a keeper, huh?" Jen said, watching him go, shaking her head. "Sorry, they normally stay to make sure you're OK. Come on, I'll show you your room, and then get you some dinner."

It was a small bedroom, but big enough for a bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. Her bags took up almost all the floor space.

"It's cozy, I know, but warm. Hot, unfortunately in summer." Jen smiled apologetically. "Bathroom's just here. You'll share that with Dave. He's not around too much, so it'll mostly be yours."

"He's my age, right?"

"Bit older. Nineteen."

"In school?"

"No, working," Jen smiled.

They sat at a small kitchen table together, over a simple meal of pasta and jarred sauce. Bella learned that Jen's husband was a long-haul trucker, and she was on disability from a workplace injury. A former nurse. She was friendly enough, but not smothering. Bella was relieved. She wanted little but to be left to go to school, and move on with her life as soon as she could.

It'd been a long day, and Bella excused herself, showering quickly, and getting ready for bed. The lock on the bathroom door wasn't the best, and when she heard it rattle, she jumped at the sound.

Then it opened, revealing a tall, shirtless man, the whites of his wide eyes bright against his dark skin. "Oh shit, sorry," he said, rapidly turning around and closing the door. Then, from behind it, added a muffled, "I'm Dave. Guessin' you're Bella."

"Um, hi," Bella said, finished, throwing on her robe. She opened the door.

"Do I know how to make introductions, or what?" he smiled, looking down, blushing a bit, she realized. "Sorry, see if I can get the lock fixed."

Or just knock? Bella thought.

"'S'OK," she mumbled. "Nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand.

He slapped his own into it. "You too. Mom show you 'round?"

"Yeah, she did, thanks."

"Well, you need anything, I'm across the hall."

"Thanks," Bella mumbled, eager for the day to be done. "Night."

"Night," he waved back, walking into the now empty bathroom.

She was up early the next day, knowing she'd need to be on a bus to get to school. Jen woke up with her, slow and shuffling in her bathrobe, handing Bella a lunch.

"Oh, thanks," Bella said, feeling her eyes tear up.

"It's just lunch honey," Jen said, seeing the reaction.

"Yeah, no, I just—" She didn't finish. Her mother had been the most unpredictable of lunch makers, and Charlie had warned her he didn't cook. She'd taken over most of the meal preparation in elementary school out of necessity. She'd been loved, she knew, but to have someone else think to feed her tugged at things she wanted well squared away before she walked into a new school.

"Big feelings," Jen said, not pressing for further explanation.

"Yeah."

Bus fare and directions in hand, Bella headed out the door. It was unremarkable as first days went at school, and she'd had enough of them to know. There was a sufficient blend of skin colours around that she didn't stick out, and clearly enough turn over that her arrival wasn't noticeable. This anonymity was welcome.

Jen wasn't home when Bella got back. Instead, there was a large man on the couch, feet up, snoring loudly. She entered as quietly as she could, thinking it must be Mr. March. Setting her bag down by the stairs, she tiptoed into the kitchen. Jen had told her to help herself, so she opened the the cupboards softly, looking for a snack.

"WHO'RE YOU!" a voice bellowed behind her.

She turned, startled, dropping the glass in her hand, feeling it shatter at her feet.

The man from the couch was pointing a gun at her.

"I'm Bella," she whispered, watching his hand tremble.

The safety was off.

"Bella?" he asked suspiciously, squinting.

Swallowing, she asked, voice quavering, "who're you?"

"Vince. What're you doing here?"

"I'm the new foster kid," she said, watching him readjust his grip on the gun. "Can you put that down, please?"

"Foster kid?"

Then there was a set of thumping footsteps down the stairs.

"Dad, gezus, put it down!" Dave yelled.

"You know her?"

"Yeah, just like she said. Put it down, 'K?"

He did, still watching her.

"Come on, Dad, you go sleep it off, hey?" He had the gun in his hand now. Expertly emptying the chamber, pocketing the rounds.

Bella still stood there, shocked, and trembling.

Dave came back, a broom and dustpan in hand. "Sorry," he said, "he's on some medication right now, makes him forget stuff."

"Like who lives here?"

"Yeah. It'll be fine now that he's met you. You're good." He was sweeping up the glass, putting it in the dustbin. "How was school?"

"Fine," Bella said mechanically, wondering why his father had a loaded gun in the house. Clearly within arm's reach. "You keep guns, loaded, in the house?"

"Dad has one, yeah."

"Loaded?"

"Not now he doesn't," Dave said airly, patting his pocket.

"Anything else I need to know about him?"

"Naw, you're good."

Bella didn't feel so good, though, and this only grew the next day, when she returned home to find her room rifled through.

"Sorry, Dad gets like this sometimes, wants to check for contraband on new foster kids," Dave explained shrugging. She noticed that the cash she'd had in her dresser was gone, as was her iPod.

Jen and Dave dismissed it, saying someone must've left the front door unlocked. It was the weakest of excuses, and Bella made sure the remainder of her valuables were in her backpack when she left for school the next day.

She didn't rush home after classes, stopping at a small park instead, its playground broken and rusted, but the bench intact, sheltered by the reach of an old oak. Its leaves were mostly gone, but a few clung stubbornly to its inner branches. Pulling out her journal and pencil, she sketched the twitching shapes, running a hand over her old illustrations. She'd inked out the view from her room in Phoenix, and then the one in Forks. She hadn't felt at ease enough to try the one in Seattle yet.

After a solid half hour, she felt better for the quiet of the outside, and the soothing work of a pen on paper. She packed up her things, and walked towards the bus stop.

The smell of cigarettes made her look around as she approached the house. She hadn't seen any signs of smokers there before. Opening the door to the small entranceway, she saw a small group of men sitting in the living room, each hunched over, cards at their chests, clearly involved in a poker game. Vince was one of them, and he didn't need to tell her to make herself scarce. The looks on their faces were menacing enough, seeing her standing there.

Trotting as lightly up the stairs as she could, she pushed open the door of her room, only to find a man's shape sprawled out on her bed.

Dave was nowhere in sight. He'd been sort of a buffer between her and Vince, when Jen wasn't home.

She put her backpack down, and then returned downstairs, standing at the edge of the living room, "um, Vince?"

"Yeah what?" he asked, not looking up from the cards in front of him.

"There's someone in my bed."

"Aww shit, Sammy, go tell Jim to go sleep in Dave's room. C'mon."

One of the other men got up, looking Bella up, and then down, as he walked by. "I'd complain if I found Jim in my bed too, sugar, but I can take that spot anytime you want."

"Shut it, Sammy. She's our foster-kid."

Sammy held up his hands, "OK, OK," he mumbled, but then whispered, "anytime, sweetheart," making kissy-fish lips and laughing as he walked away.

"System kid, huh?" One of the other men asked. "Wanna make some cash girly?"

Vince smacked him across the head. "Nu-uh."

"What? All the other—"

"Shut it! Cop's kid, dumbass," he hissed.

All of the men remaining turned and stared at her.

One of them mumbled, "you let that in your house?"

Vince only shook his head, saying "eyes on the cards, boys. We need to be out later."

There was a general rumble of agreement, and they turned back to their game, ignoring her.

Sammy returned, a sleepy looking Jim in tow.

"Sorry girl, would've been awake if I'd known you were comin' up." He grinned at Bella, who turned, face neutral, to return upstairs. When she heard them leave, she exhaled in relief.

The group was there again the next day. And more of her things were missing.

This time she confronted Vince directly.

"You accusin' me of lyin' and stealin' in my own home, kid?"

"No, I'm asking for my things back."

"You're here on our charity, girl. Be smart and keep your mouth shut."

"You're paid to take care of me," she said, arms as rigid at her sides as they could be, one still casted and aching.

Dave and Jen looked on uneasily from the kitchen table.

Vince had been leaning against the sink, he moved forward, his stride and stance aggressive.

Bella managed to duck the punch he threw, backing up into a wall.

"Vince, no!" Jen yelled at him, standing.

"Shut it!" he shouted, and then let her feel the sting of his fist, right into his wife's eye.

Dave stayed stock still, eyes down, just breathing.

Bella picked up the phone from the counter, running upstairs, dialing the police. She shoved her bed against the door to her room, and waited there, shaking.

It was very quiet while she waited, the operator staying on the line, asking occasional questions.

When the thump of booted feet up the stairs announced the police's arrival, she made them slip their ID under the door, before opening the door.

"You come downstairs, please?" one of the officers asked.

She followed them, still shaking.

"Mrs. May tells us you assaulted her."

Bella's eyes widened. "What? I—"

Dave spoke. "We all saw, Bella."

Jen said nothing, eyes married to the floor, a frozen bag of peas over her face.

"I didn't," Bella said, "He hit her when she stood up to defend me."

The officer looked at Jen, gaze flicking over her posture, and Dave's. Both had shoulders rounded with submission. The bodily language was clear to all present.

"You want to press charges, Ma'am?" the officer asked, eyebrows up, looking to her, then Bella's petite form.

Jen shook her head.

"I understand you're their foster child?"

Bella locked her jaw, nodding.

"Do you want to stay?"

"No."

"OK," the officer sighed. "You know your social worker's number?"

With a voice leaden with anger, and defeat, Bella gave it to him, wondering where she would wind up next.

Packing her things up took much less time than it had at Charlie's, so many of them gone.

She went with the officers, who took her down to the police station. When one of them led her to an interview room, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"You can't question me, not without counsel, or consent of my guardians."

"Your guardians gave it," the officer said, holding up the paperwork.

Bella went to open her mouth in protest, but then shut it again.

Sitting down, the woman began asking her the most basic questions, which Bella answered, knowing there was no harm in giving what the social worker already knew.

When she asked for a more detailed statement, Bella stopped talking. "I'm entitled to a lawyer," she mumbled.

"No, you're not. Your guardians have signed off on you speaking with us without representation."

"I'm old enough to make informed decisions," Bella said, less certainly.

"What you're old enough to understand kid, is that you've made an accusation that no one has backed up. And that the family's possessions have gone missing."

"Their possessions? Mine have been taken every day from my room!"

"You report that?" the officer levelled at her, their eyes locking.

Bella flushed angrily, and turned away. "No," she sighed out.

"Right. So, why don't you tell me what happened, then?"

With few other options than to make sure her story was heard, Bella did, keeping it to the barest of details.

When the officer's notes were done, she stood, murmuring, "back in a bit with this for you to sign."

Bella sat, looking at the closed door, a small window in it that allowed her to catch glances of passing heads. No one else stopped to look in, or see who was there. It was the better part of an hour, and Bella was yawning, getting ready to put her head down on the table, when the door opened abruptly.

It was Jeff, looking surly and dishevelled. "Didn't expect to see you flunk out of a home placement."

Bella stared at him. Flunk? She'd been robbed and assaulted, and he was—of course he was, the sarcastic voice in her head muttered. They'd all contradicted her claim.

"Come on, let's get your stuff and go."

"Where?" Bella asked, suspiciously.

"A group home."

"What's that?" she asked warily.

"A place for kids who struggle in regular placements."

"I didn't struggle, Jeff. They—"

"Mr. Allingham," he corrected her, still gesturing for her to get up and leave.

She stood, but said, "they need me to sign my statement."

"Sure," he said, voice flat. "But let's go. It's late."

The officer stood up from her desk, clipboard ready. But she didn't hand it to Bella, she handed it to Jeff.

"OK," he said, glancing at it.

"SIgn here," he said, handing it to Bella, pulling over the first page, presenting her with the signature space.

"I need to read it first."

He shoved it into her chest. "Be my guest. I'll come back for you tomorrow morning." Then he turned as if to walk away.

Flustered, exhausted, and confused by all that transpired during the day, and the weeks before, Bella choked out a "fine," signing her name to it, hoping it didn't come back to haunt her. The officer didn't even look at her as she walked away.

She felt almost invisible.

The group home was a house on the verge of a residential neighbourhood, the rumble of a railway line not so far away. A rusted security door barred the way in. Matching bars screened the window. It looked like a jail made by amateurs.

Jeff knocked on the rattling frame, which was opened by the silhouette of hulking bodybuilder. His voice even growled, with a tone that matched the rustiness of the door.

"What?"

"Hey Neal, got your new kid."

"It's after hours."

"Should I have left her at the precinct for the night?"

This seemed to create a welcome Bella didn't expect.

"Course not," he said softly. "Come on in, kid."

Inside, the light revealed the form it had shadowed, but with a younger face than expected. "Hi, I'm Neal. And you're?"

"Bella," she said, looking around anxiously. It was surprisingly clean, given the questionable exterior. There were printed, and laminated signs everywhere—things to do, and not do. Rules in large print. Platitudes in others: _Your attitude determines your happiness._

Jeff stayed for a moment this time, signing her in, and then pulling her aside while Neal got a temporary bed ready.

"You're at stage two, Bella. You want to stay here."

"Why?"

"Because stage three is a secured facility. Got me?"

She raised her eyebrows, trying to muster something to show him she hadn't done anything wrong, when he spoke again.

"Most kids take some time to work out of a home placement. It doesn't say much of you that you got yourself police booted in less than a week. Keep your nose clean here."

His mind so clearly made up, Bella kept her lips pressed tightly together, nodding. The less she saw of him, the better.

Neal was back, picking up her bags, waving to Jeff, who slipped outside, the door clanging shut behind him.

Deposited in a small room with a bed, Jeff pointed out the direction to the bathroom, and told her he'd get her a proper room in the morning.

"How do I get to school?" she asked. She realized she wasn't even sure where she was.

"We'll get you registered tomorrow."

"But I already started—"

He shook his head. "There's a school within walking distance. No point in you bussing across town."

Another school. Another delay.

She shut down the anxiety that was trying to twist her stomach around.

Third time's the charm, she told herself instead. This would work out. It had to.


	3. Ruled & Broken

**Ruled & Broken**

* * *

A/N for 2018-08-30: I'm posting two chapters today. We hit rock bottom at the end of chapter 4, and then Edward arrives...so buckle up and hold on.

Thank you for reading - don't forget to freak out and review too ; - )

~ Erin

* * *

It was a mixed group home, Bella realized, as she sat at the large table in the common room. It was plastic topped, and while she could see the dried marks of a cloth and liquid that had run over it, tried to keep her hands off it, after making first, and sticky contact with the dubious surface.

The supervisors ran on a rotating schedule, pinned to the kitchen wall. They were all men. Their pictures were not reassuring. Each looked like someone she'd shy away from in a dark alley. Perhaps that was a good thing, if anyone needed keeping in line.

Neal and Abi, the lead supervisors, were on today, and Abi was sitting in front of her, sorting through a file, setting papers and a pen beside him. He had a black bandana tied around his head, two sturdy rings in his ears, and one in his lower lip. He was toying with it, with his tongue. Bella's breakfast sat mostly forgotten, her attention fixated on his lingual manipulations.

"So I'm just going to run through the rules with you." He went on to read off the more mundane ones about attending all classes, doing house chores, being clean, neat and presentable, not stealing, using drugs etc. He stopped after each subsection, making sure she understood.

"You got any cash, cards, etc.?"

"Some, yes."

"Stays with us in the safe."

"And if I need something?"

"Just ask. We'll buy it for you, or give you the cash for it, if you actually need it."

It was an indignity to be reduced to such juvenile control, but at least it wouldn't get stolen that way.

"No sex while you're here. That includes anything sexual—touching, kissing, etc. You name it."

"Fine."

"You on any prescription drugs?"

"No."

"Not the pill, an IUD, anything?"

"No," she said more clearly.

"OK. These are for you, then." He fished in a bag on the chair beside him, and pushed a bag of condoms over the surface of the table. It left a smudged line in its streaky surface.

She stared at them, eyebrows wrinkled into one line, looking back up at him.

"I know," he said, "those are the _rules_. That doesn't mean people don't break them. We just don't want to layer any complications on top of anyone's life here." He shrugged. "Most girls don't really want to get pregnant in foster care."

"No," Bella said, agreeing, wondering if girls did here. She hadn't seen any other ones yet.

Once she'd signed the house rules, Abi took her upstairs to her room. "You'n Jasmin are sharin' a room. Meet her when she's back from school. You're the only girls we've got here now."

The top bunk was taken in the small space, so Bella put her bag on the lower one.

"Put anything valuable in the box here. We'll lock it up for you, 'K?"

It was easy enough to put her wallet in the box, and hand it to him.

"Nothing else?" he asked, eyebrows up.

She shook her head.

Later in the day, Neal drove her to the hospital to get her cast removed, and then down to the highschool to complete her registration, and get her textbooks. Most of her school supplies were still at the other school. The secretary just sort of shrugged when Bella asked if she thought they'd send it over. "Doubt it, honey. If they're as busy as we are."

Neal shook his head, "we got lots of school stuff. Don't worry,"

Just things, she told herself. The last ones your parents bought you. You're still you. This is just temporary. Whole new life come September. You won't be anyone's charge then. Not Charlie's, or Billy's or the state's. Your own.

It was a tentative mantra, to be sure, but it was hers, and she was repeating it to herself, pretending to look at a book, when the door to her room banged open.

"They wasn't shitting me!" a loud voice boomed. "They gave me a bitty little white girl for a roommate!"

A set of curves coddled in sweatshirt walked into the room. Her sharp orange nails matched her lipstick, silver hoops dangling beside a well made up face. All the jangling flesh was mesmerizing.

"And I think she can't talk none, or somethin' too."

"Hi," Bella said, standing up, "I'm Bella. Can definitely talk." She held out her hand.

Jasmin took it between two fingers, "not a ghost. Nope. Jasmin, by the way. That's me. Don't touch my makeup."

"No problem," Bella said, and sat back down on my bed. "Don't steal my stuff or try to beat me up. We'll be good."

Jasmin snorted. "That true, what Neal said? You beat some family up, get all gnarly with the police?"

"Totally," Bella lied, figuring she might as well lend credibility to whatever it was people wanted to believe. Clearly they didn't want to hear the truth.

"Good. You'll do fine here then."

The door to the room open, a boy a little older than Bella walked by, his sallow skin offset by his dark, and intentionally greased hair. "Whoa, they really did give us something pretty to look at!"

"Fuck off, Tito," Jasmin spat from the dresser, where she was reapplying her mascara.

"Any time chica," he winked. "You too baby," he directed at Bella, miming running his hands down an hourglass, then tipping his hips towards it suggestively. "An-y time!" He was gone then, and Jasmin smacked the door closed with a foot.

"Fuckers," she muttered.

\- 0 -

After the first night in their room, Bella learned to shove a wedge under their bedroom door. She didn't know who, but she'd been woken in the middle of the night, a pair of large hands fondling their way up her chest. She hadn't screamed, smacking them away, the owner of the offending appendages fleeing before she could catch his face.

On her third day, Neal barked out a "cut it out!" to Tito and his friends, when they started catcalling Bella coming down for breakfast, but didn't do anything beyond it. She didn't look at the boys, but wondered if it had been one of them.

If she'd blinked, she would've missed it, but as some of the boys got ready for school, Neal handed them their lunch bags, and subtly, little white bags that he palmed from his hands to theirs.

The school was a utilitarian building with a chain-link fence that herded a dusty field, and a greenless expanse. Its own small desert in the midst of Seattle's greenery. Its inhabitants were made up of the disenfranchised, financially, and morally.

That kids were selling drugs at school was an open secret. That her housemates were, was more disturbing.

She said nothing. If the supervisors were handing them out, what point was there?

Head down, she ate dinner, and read her books, doing her schoolwork. Just a few months of school, she told herself. Two more after that. Then freedom. She could do this.

And if more than a third of her clothes weren't missing when she got back to her room, she would've put up with it. But they'd taken the sweater her mom had made her. It was just too much.

Abi listened with folded arms, and told her to take a deep breath. "Stuff goes missing, Bella. I'm sorry. We can get you new clothes, OK?"

She'd explained why the sweater meant something, and she shook her head. There was no point.

When she saw the carefully woven colours on another girl at school, though, and Jasmin flashing around the new clothes she'd somehow found the cash to buy, it was too much. She pulled her aside after school.

"You took my stuff. Not cool Jasmin. Not OK."

She laughed. "Course I did. We all do that shit, Bella. Suck it up."

"My mom made that sweater. I want it back."

"Or what? Gonna give me a shiner?"

"Do I need to?" Bella was so out on a limb, but she was angry, and the stripping away of the small remembrances of home, and family, were wearing on her.

Then Jasmin kicked her in the stomach, and turned and ran.

By the time Bella limped home, sore from breathing and walking, Jasmin had had the advantage of telling her tale first.

And Bella's record was already a mark against her.

"Mind the line kid. We don't take violence here."

"No, you just tell me to blow it off when she steals and sells my stuff."

"You can't go hitting her for that, Bella."

"I didn't. She kicked me."

His face twisted a bit, and he bent down to speak softly. Menacingly. "Your dad teach you how to hit, so it don't leave marks? Huh, cop kid?"

He waved her away after that.

In the morning, Bella was one of the first people down, and witnessed a quiet hissing match in the corner between Abi and one of the older boys. It was subdued, and she kept her eyes away, not wanting to intrude on what she presumed was private.

Abi's sudden jerk, caught her eye though, and his hand was at the boy's throat, a menacing, "then find them, asshole," spitting from his. Ashen, the boy startled to the side, and scurried off, Bella pretending to study the table's new swirl marks.

When Abi walked by her, he squatted down for a moment, talking to Bella like he hadn't just physically assaulted a child in his care. "Things still tough with Jasmin?"

"Sure," Bella mumbled.

"Better to make peace with her, Bella. You don't want to be on her bad side."

Wanting him to move on, and far away from her, she nodded nervously, breathing out slowly as he walked away.

Just a few more months, she told herself.

At lunch, she found her way to the computer lab, her heart squishing into itself when she saw an email from Jacob Black. It was simple: _Just wondering how you're doing. Don't be a stranger._

Part of her wished she'd stayed with them, but another part, darkened by what she'd seen in the last while, wondered if it wasn't better. How awful it would've been to be disappointed by the Blacks. To have them do the things others had done to her. The world was not so full of good people as she'd thought it was.

She wrote back: _doing just fine here. School. Home. Studying. All Good. Say hi to your dad for me._

Nothing that would encourage further correspondence.

She heard the screaming before she got to the house. When she realized it was Jasmin, Bella started walking faster.

She regretted it once she got there.

"Ask that bitch!" Jasmin said, pointing a chubby finger at her.

"They were on your dresser, Jas."

"As if I'd be so stupid as to leave that there!"

"Bella? You know anything about this?" Neal held up a bag of pills. They were the same ones she'd seen him pass to the boys.

"No." She said. What else was there to say?

Neal didn't say anything to her, but turned back to Jasmin. "We don't steal. Got it?"

Jasmin's lips were compressed into angry red slugs that twisted with contempt.

Neal shoved her away, and Bella moved out of his path as he left the room.

Jasmin said nothing to Bella with her words, but her face was twisted and ugly, sneering at her as she got up onto her bunk.

It was harder to get to sleep that night, sore and restless form the bruise on her stomach, anxious on the inside for what she'd seen. Distracted, she forgot to wedge the door. So when the hands arrived this time, one cupped her mouth, and another tightened at her throat. The moon had risen enough, so when he moved just right, Neal's face was clearly illuminated. "Thieves pay here, Bella. You clear?"

All that was clear to Bella was the hand at her throat, and the promise of violence she knew both he and Abi were capable of. Swinging her foot up, she planted it as hard as she could into his neck, the move dislodging his hold, and sending him off the edge of the bed. She ran, bolting down the stairs, grabbing the first jacket and pair of shoes she could find, running outside and down the street. She kept running, until her lungs were just two fires sucking air, and her legs ended in a jellied tremble.

It was freezing outside, and her sweats and tshirt offered little resistance to the cold. The jacket was too big, but not warm enough, and the shoes sloughed around on her feet.

She'd found herself in an area of town not familiar to her, large and industrial in nature, with a few office buildings scattered in between. She found a doorwell that was sheltered, and curled herself up into a corner there, waiting for daylight.

When it came, it also arrived with a poke from a baton. "Hey, up'n onwards kid. Homeless shelter's down the street."

A pair of sturdy shoes were in front of her face, and she stood up abruptly, nervous they belonged to a cop.

But no, the cheap slacks and jacket screamed cheap security. "That way," he said, waving the baton. "This's private property."

She nodded, tripping over her uneasy legs as she moved in the direction he was pointing. Seeing a large building, signed with a "north-east district shelter" come into sigh, she wanted to cry.

The entrance was utilitarian, a woman sitting behind a glass cage, an intercom for them to speak through.

"Hi there, how can I help you?"

"I need a place to stay," Bella said.

"You over eighteen?"

"Yes," she lied.

"OK, then we can help you. ID?"

"Don't have any."

The woman looked at her.

"Someone hurt you?"

"No."

"Someone hurt you," she said, pointing her pen towards her neck. "You need me to call the police?"

"No," Bella said more vociferously.

"OK," she said cautiously, looking at Bella, and tapping her page. "Someone'll be out shortly. Just have a seat."

What Bella really wanted to do, though, was pee, and then fall asleep somewhere, anyway, that wasn't outside on concrete.

No such luck.

A woman with hair dyed in a rainbow pattern came out, waving Bella inside, and directly to a bathroom. "Clean clothes here," she said, pointing to a stack on the counter. "Just give me yours once you step into the shower. I'll wash them."

"Oh, they're—"

"Policy, sorry. Prevents things like bed bugs."

This place had barred windows too, and the light that filtered in from the weak sun, shadowed her in them as she cleaned herself. Clad in a clean t shirt and sweatpants, Bella looked in the mirror, where yes, fingered bruises ringed her neck.

"So we close up in about an hour, and then open at six. There's no storage here, so you'll need to take your clothes with you."

"You close?"

"Yeah, we only get funding for evenings, so you're on your own for the day."

The tears were vibrant and hot, and utterly independent of anything Bella wanted.

"Someone hurt you, hey?"

Bella nodded.

"We can call the police—"

"No."

The woman sort of breathed out, nodding. Accepting there were reasons. "OK." After a moment, she said, "the library's a good place during the day. No one bothers you much there. The salvation army has a hot lunch program, too, if you're hungry. You looking for work?"

What was she going to do? If the group home supervisors were selling drugs, and her social worker didn't believe her the first time, she didn't trust him to take her word on this. And if the police thought she was stealing or mixed up in drugs—she groaned mentally. It was just too much, on not enough sleep.

"I don't know," she said. "It's been...a lot to deal with."

"Maybe just get through the day, then, hmm?"

Her freshly laundered clothes in a plastic bag, Bella left the shelter just over an hour later, fed and clean, with bus fare and a map to the library.

There were worse things than a day reading books, she told herself.

\- 0 -

Shelters run on capacity numbers, and those numbers oscillate depending on the weather, and the economy.

It was a bad night for those wanting shelter, when Bella returned close to six, the shelter's scheduled opening time.

There was a line snaking around the block, and she was at the tail end of it, a few straggling in behind her, mumbling about the pointless wait. They expected to be turned away.

Moving along the line were workers with the shelter, Bella presumed, and as angrier and more frustrated words were exchanged, her heart sank. She'd arrived too late.

When one of the men reached her, Bella asked, bluntly, "should I go? Try to find somewhere else for the night?"

"Oh no," the young man said, "I'm asking people if they want to be part of our program."

"Oh," Bella said, disappointed.

"We offer housing for work."

Her attention snapped back to him. "What?"

"It's a charity that offers young people housing for casual work, and helps them move into the formal workforce."

"I'm interested," she said, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she felt.

"Well that's great!" he said, "Here, just let me get you to fill in some forms."

He handed her a clipboard and pen, and she began writing. It was simple: Name, birthdate, next of kin / family, contact numbers, medical conditions. She filled it out and handed it back to him.

"Van'll be here in a bit. Just hold tight over there with my colleague."

The van was there in a few minutes, Bella and a few other young women hopping inside. What they didn't see, looking forward, and not back, was the running form of a woman with rainbow hair, yelling at it to stop, as it sped away.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


	4. Debt

**Debt**

* * *

Bella woke up, not exactly happy, but content. Not anxious. No one had disturbed her sleep in the church basement over the last week, each girl allocated a small space made private with a partition. The mattresses were thin, but it was comfortable enough. The other girls were kind, and thrilled when they realized Bella actually knew how to cook.

She'd taken that on as her contribution to the group, and went shopping daily for them, with Zeb. On the first day, she'd almost cried, when he stopped at a department store, saying, "figured you'd want more than the clothes on your back. Maybe a toothbrush, too." He'd smiled, patting her on the back, seeing the emotion there. When she hesitated, taking only the most basic of things, he'd sighed and said, "girl, you know how guys always tell you they hate shopping?"

She'd looked at him, nervously, not saying anything.

"It's true," he chuckled, "and I don't want to have to do it again soon, so get what you need. It's OK."

She'd been modest still, in her purchases, but it was enough not to have to do laundry more almost a week.

Breakfast made, Bella sat down with the other girls to eat, smiling at Sally, who was making a face at her eggs.

"I'm not that bad a cook," Bella said softly.

"It's not that," Sally said, "sorry, I just—I never liked scrambled."

"Gotcha," Bella said, "I'll remember that."

"Thanks," Sally said. She was about fifteen, as far as Bella could tell. Small for her age, and timid too. She evoked all Bella's protective instincts.

Zeb's van rumbled up outside the back of the building, but when he came in, it was with a load of backpacks in his arms.

"Moving day, folks."

"What?" one of the older girls asked, "Where?"

"You really wanna live in a church basement forever? No one want an apartment and a job? A bathroom to share with only three other people?"

There were smiles all around. One of the bigger drawbacks of sharing the space with twenty or so other girls was that there were only two bathrooms, and one shower.

"OK," he smiled, handing out the bags, "pack your stuff, and I'll let you know where you're going, and who you're going with."

\- 0 -

Sally and Bella stared at the front door of the house a little nervously. It was a well worn affair with peeling paint, and a porch that tilted precariously to the side. "I know," Zeb had said before he drove away, "trust me. It's good. Nice girls here. Place is way nicer on the inside."

The door opened, and a curly head poked itself out, "You gonna stand there lettin' lunch get cold? Come on!"

As promised, the space inside was better, but not as much as Bella had hoped. It wasn't a house that was loved. Rented for use, and used hard.

The four girls inside ranged in age from their late teens, to their mid-twenties, as far as Bella could tell. She and Sally were the youngest ones there.

"Come on, eat," the curly-headed one said, "we all got to get to work soon. You too."

"We do?" Sally asked.

"Yeah, what did you expect? A free ride?"

Sally shook her head, and they sat down to eat. Quickly. No one else spoke, or introduced themselves.

It made Bella anxious in the extreme.

The dishes were tossed into the sink, and when Bella went to wash them, one of the other girls said, "don't bother. We'll get them later. We gotta get ready. Thought you guys would be here earlier."

They were led into one of the bedrooms, where Bella was disappointed to see more mats on the floor. She chided herself for her snobbishness. It was still better than living with twenty people. She was being helped, with a job and housing and food and clothes. She had nothing to complain about.

"Here, this should fit you," the girl said. She held out a scrunched ball of black fabric.

Taking it, the folds undid themselves and revealed a very short, very tight black dress.

"These too," the girl said, handing her a black bra, and hose.

None of the other girls were leaving to change in private, so Bella stripped down, putting it on, as did Sally, in a similar outfit. It stretched to a bare inch below her bum, with a v neck that revealed the midpoint of her bra.

No one had said where they were working yet, and as they marched out the door, Bella more awkwardly than the others, in heels she was unaccustomed to, she made note of the street and house number.

Their walk was short, about ten blocks to a nondescript building, an unlit neon sign advertising dancers.

"In here," one of the older girls mumbled, opening up a utility door at the back.

They were immediately greeted by barked "you're late!"

"Sorry Mac," the curly-headed girl said, "new girls arrived late."

Mac's burly form clarified itself, moving out of the club's dimness, and into the light of the outside, still streaming in from the doorway.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Get goin'," he said, jerking his thumb behind him, leaving Bella and Sally standing there. "Either of you waitressed before?"

Both shook their heads, and he rolled his eyes, mumbling a quiet "fuck," under his breath. "Names?"

"Bella."

"Last name?"

"Swan."

"A bird, perfect. Birdy. You?" he barked, looking at Sally.

"Sally Starek," she whispered, clearly intimidated by Mack.

"Twinkie," he said. "Those'll be your working names. Don't tell the clients your real ones when they ask. You'll be taking drinks to tables then." He picked up a notepad from a table, kicking the door stand with his foot, letting it slam shut. It was like being entombed, the darkness of the space so encompassing. After a moment, their eyes adjusted, and he began explaining the numbered layout of the room, and the same pattern for the tables. The codes for drinks were listed on a chart by the wall, which he pointed them to. "Memorize it. You've got about an hour, and then you're up."

Sally began to hyperventilate.

"I don't memorize stuff, Bella. I can't—"

Bella turned to her. "Just do your best, OK? We'll do this together."

Looking around, Bella found a marker, and some scrap paper, and made quick flashcards for them to use. They practised for the whole hour, and when Mac returned, he nodded in approval of the cards. "Leave 'em here. Might work well for our new girls."

As they moved onto the floor of the club, Bella and Sally stared. There were dancers, alright, just not the kind they'd expected.

"Never seen a strip club, before?"

Both of them shook their heads, and Mac chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it." Then he slapped Sally on the ass, and walked off. "Gloria," he called, "new drink servers."

An older woman, maybe in her thirties, came over, dressed similarly to them. "Here," she said, handing them trays. "Servery is there," she pointed, "they'll call your orders up by table. You handle one through twenty," she pointed to Bella, "and you, Twinkie, twenty one through forty."

Bella nodded, trying to settle her stomach. Trying to remember how to walk without tripping in heels.

"Can I um, practise first, Gloria?" she asked. "I haven't' done this before," she whispered.

"No time," Gloria said, pointing to the bar. "Your first order's almost up."

Bella tripped towards it, hearing a snort behind her.

"Table two," the bartender said, "corner one. Expensive stuff," he said quietly. "Guys there expect to get handsy. Watch the drinks."

"And if they do? Get handsy?"

"Don't spill the drinks," he frowned, as if this was obvious.

The tray held some ten different glasses, and Bella could barely lift it with two hands, holding it in front of her like a cafeteria tray.

"Shoulder girl," the bartender muttered. "Gezus, haven't you seen a waitress before?"

The glasses slipped and clinked dangerously as she hefted it onto her shoulder, arms trembling under the strain.

Then she started what felt like a gauntlet, dodging other servers and people who could clearly move more nimbly in general, and in heels.

She was sweating when she reached the table, a crowd of suited men there, watching the dancers on the stage.

Moving the tray from her shoulder down to the lip of the table, one of the men, muttered, "oh good," and then slid a hand up the back of her dress.

She startled, her foot sliding over on the heel, and the entire tray went with her balance, tilting sideways and landing with a crash of sloshing liquids and breaking glass.

There was so much swearing she couldn't quite tell from who, but was struggling to stand, hissing on a piece of broken glass, when a fist in her hair made her stand up against her will.

"Sorry boss," Mac's voice came, "new girl."

There was more muttered swearing, but Bella was watching the men carefully now, taking in the expensive suits, and the angry looks. It wasn't much past two, and these men were well lubricated. Their table was already littered with empty glasses.

"Not the kind that does well on her feet, then," one of them said, wiping off his trousers with a napkin.

Mac chuckled.

The hairs on Bella's neck stood up.

"Gotcha boss." He hadn't let go of Bella's hair, and turned her away with his grip, walking her towards the back.

"I'm sorry," Bella said, realizing her voice was shaking.

"You'd better be." He said nothing else, still pushing her. When they reached the back area, he let go of her hair, picking up a phone and dialing. "Yeah, Julie. New downstairs crew...Just one so far….sure, if you want more." Then he put it down, calling, "Hey Twinkie, you're with me too."

"No," Bella said, "think I'll find my own job, thanks."

"Pardon?" Mac said, looking perfectly innocent.

"Thank you for the chance—"

He didn't let her finish.

She was pushed up against the wall, half into an upturned table, its leg protruding painfully into her back. His hand was at her throat, and the thought flickered, that perhaps the world she'd known before was just a cover for an ugliness to be found everywhere. Had Phil done this to her mother? Charlie? Would she have found Billy or Jacob Black's hands used in violence if she'd stayed?

"Chance, girl? This isn't a chance, it's you repaying your debt, how, and where we decide you do. And you're going to do it how we say."

She was too shocked to say more, and walked where she was shoved, downstairs to a large dressing room.

There were women in various states of costume, some for stage, and some for street. Very particular street wear.

"Patty, fresh ones. Get 'em ready." Then he turned and left.

A woman stood up from one of the stage mirrors, ringed with lights, and jerked her head towards the back of the space.

"Find some clothes there. It's all sorted by size," she pointed. "I'll show you the makeup when you're done."

Already shaken by what had transpired upstairs, Bella shook out a "I can't dance."

Patty laughed, and when she saw the girls' stricken looks, laughed some more. "Oh my God, you really are new, aren't you?" When she recovered a bit, she said, "No one's expecting you to dance, girls, unless it's on your backs."

Bella didn't even say anything, she just turned and walked back towards the door. It was locked. She looked around. The windows were caged, and the one other exit, lit from above in red, also resisted the turning of its handle.

Patty was kinder with her words. "It's OK," she said, "it's not that bad. They make sure we're safe."

Sally had simply sat down, looking like she'd expected this. Bella's breathing was readying her to fight, or flee, and it was too fast, panic rising.

The sharp slap from Patty didn't help much. "Nu-uh, I don't have time to deal with that. Get dressed." She pointed again to the back. "Or should I get Mac down here to motivate you?"

Bella shook her head.

All the underwear had snaps or velcro in the centre. It made her start shaking again just to put it on.

Just sex, she told herself. Condoms. Being careful. Running away if she could. Somehow.

The most modest clothes available left her midriff exposed, a thin band passing for a skirt. There were garters and thigh high stockings, and bras whose tight lace cut into her skin. All of it prized show over comfort.

"No, not those shoes. Get some from the pile there."

The heels were higher, thin stilettos that allowed for the most careful gait.

"Don't get the clothes dirty, if you can avoid it. They don't like you changing mid shift. Alley walls are gross, so try to get inside if you can—if they want it quick, that is."

Sally looked down, while Bella stared.

"Make'em wear a condom. Mac'll back you up if they give you any trouble. He'll want you close by here, so don't be afraid to yell if someone gets difficult. But don't cry, no matter what. No one wants to feel shitty fucking someone, 'specially when they've paid for it. Bank on one bathroom every four hours. They want you to aim for at least three or four customers a night. Got it?"

Bella's body felt locked in place. She wasn't sure she could move her lips, even if she tried.

Air in, and air out, she told herself.

She felt detached, somewhere in her mind commenting that she was probably in shock.

The shake that started seemed to originate in her toes.

Mac lined Bella and Sally up in the back of the club with the other girls, where they were told to wait. They weren't allowed to sit, but could lean against the wall.

Men came and went, and girls with them, returning usually within half an hour. Some sooner. Others later.

When one of them pointed at Bella, she couldn't move.

"Birdy, you. Hurry up." Mac called.

Still stuck in place, Mac lurched over, yanking at her arm.

"I can't," she finally managed.

Mac leaned close, "you can. And you will. Either here, or after you wake up on a boat to God knows where. Your choice."

She whispered the next words out. "I've never done this before."

He laughed, lessening his grip. "Expect you haven't."

"Ever," she clarified.

His tone shifted abruptly, and he stood up, "really?" Then he looked back at the man who'd selected her. "Sorry man, she's not available tonight." Then he pulled Bella over to one of the rooms to the side, knocking. "Jim?" It opened.

"Yeah?" a balding head said.

"This one's completely fresh."

The balding man eyed her, as Mac pulled her into the small office.

"You sure about that kid. Or you just nervous?"

"I'm sure."

He leaned back in his chair, "OK. Set her aside. I'll see if I've gotta taker. Maybe check the other one, too."

Mac pulled her out of the room, leading her down the dim hall to another room, this one furnished as a small bedroom, the queen bed taking most of the space. There was a chair beside it.

"Wait here," he said, and then closed the door. She heard the door lock from the outside.

Body parts, she told herself. Just body parts. Meeting.

She wasn't sure of the time, or how long she waited, shoes off, curled up against the headboard, but the rattling of the handle made her stand up, sliding the pinching heels back on.

"Here," Mac said, throwing a granola bar on the bed, and then holding out a pill.

"No thank you," she said quietly.

"I'm not offering. Take it."

Paying off a 'debt' she could do. Getting hooked on drugs. No.

She shook her head.

"Do you need me to help you take it?" he asked.

She wasn't even sure what that meant.

Then she was.

He'd spun her around, one meaty arm bracing her chest, the other stuffing the pill in her mouth, and clamping it shut, his fingers pinching her nose, and the heel of his palm keeping her lips from opening.

After a minute he released her, and she stumbled forward, tears stinging her eyes. The pill had dissolved to nothing in her mouth.

He wasn't angry when he spoke, but simply blunt. "You take what's offered. No questions. You do that, and you'll be fine. Go wash your face. He'll be here soon. You'll feel nice and relaxed by then."

Then he turned and closed the door, locking it behind him.

Not taking any chances, she did as he'd instructed, and then opened the granola bar wrapper, taking necessarily small, shaking bites.

Half of her wished she had some paper in front of her. A way to trace out the descending lines of her life, to plot an upward course again. The other half didn't even want to think about it.

The police, even if they didn't want her for other reasons, would be no help. She'd read enough of the news to do that. If she could get away—run away—far enough, they wouldn't pursue her. She wasn't that valuable. Desperate girls were cheap, she was sure, from what she'd seen. But how far? Back to Forks? Was it far enough? They had her name. They could look for her there. The thought of entangling her only acquaintances, the Blacks, with what was clearly some very well organized crime, made her shiver. She wouldn't bring that trouble to their door. The homeless shelters were watched, obviously, and the social worker was useless. She was on her own.

Then the door opened, and Mac stepped aside to let another man enter.

\- 0 -

"Shit," Patty muttered, watching the group approach. She and the other girls were outside, hugging the corner of the building, Mac having deemed the cool April weather warm enough. "Fucking college kids."

Bella had seen them, but assumed they'd walk by. Now that they were closer, she could see nervous jabs exchanged between them, most of the group a tight knot, one lagger trailing behind.

Patty moved closer to Bella and Sally, "if they pick you, try to stay close. The richer they are, the shittier they are."

Bella had found Mac at the start of her shift, quietly asking if she could have a pill.

He'd chuckled, and held one out, "I'll add it to your bill, sweetheart. Careful, though, they're habit forming."

She could see why, and was glad to have them.

The scenes from the night before were playing out in her mind, but now at a distance, buffered by the dull edge of the drug. Everything was there, just bearable.

The thought of what these boys might want was bearable, too.

She listened to their mutterings, watching them negotiate with Zeb.

Then one of them, the lagger, pointed, and clearly, without any indecision, said "her." He was paler than the winter sun would make someone, eyes jet black, with messy hair that spun up to coppery tips.

"Sorry, taken," Mac said. He'd warned her she'd been reserved.

Long white fingers flicked up a set of crisp bills.

Mac's eyebrows went up with them.

"Double it and we're talking."

"For the night?" the black eyes asked.

"Your money, man."

Mac took the proffered wad of cash, nodded, and waved Bella towards him. "Enjoy your night Birdy."

There were catcalls and whoops from the crowd of men, which her buyer ignored, hailing a cab. As one pulled up, he asked, "what's your name?"

"Birdy," she almost whispered, not trusting him with her real one. "And you?"

"Edward Cullen."

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


	5. Mine

A/N for 2018-08-31: I kinda bit my nails and smiled nervously when the "oh good, Edward's here to find/rescue her!" comments rolled in.

Happy angsty reading. Don't forget to leave me your reaction at the end :-)

~ Erin

* * *

 **MINE**

Fitting in was a chore he was well versed in. Engaging in the feigned drinking, and then the whoring some of these idiots wanted to entertain, was loathsome in principle. For men training to be doctors, it was simply disgusting.

Medical schools had never had much in the way of meritorious entrance criteria. He shouldn't be surprised, he told himself.

"Up there!" one of them pointed. "Sweet!"

Gathered like an assemblage of cattle, and just as effectively hobbled by their footwear, were a group of brightly coloured offerings, shivering against the failing, spring-like promises of an April night.

His associates were already contemplating the fulfilment of fantasies unthinkable to the women they considered friends, or girlfriends, or wives. Money could do that, he knew—loosen boundaries worth keeping. Undo things worth doing.

He swept the array of colours, gathering the spectrum of thoughts. Nothing surprising. Not that there ever was. One set was quivering particularly hard though, and he ran his mind back over the group, looking for it.

There.

Yes, she was new. Or new to this.

Or was it the other one?

She was nervous too. He focused harder, listening.

Nothing.

His eyebrows pinched together.

One of his classmates—Alex—had spotted the little brunette too, silently considering what he might do with such a specimen.

Edward's lips twisted in distaste. Why it should bother him, what Alex did with a woman who sold herself, he didn't bother exploring.

Then the wind shifted.

If he'd stood in the midst of a wildfire, it would've been nothing. _Nothing._ Nothing compared to the burn of her scent in his throat.

The small girl in the too tight clothes was simply a bag of blood, waiting to be pierced.

His humanity had sloughed off him, a skin worth shedding for what her scent promised.

Perfection.

He knew, without looking, the placement of every human within several hundred feet. Was calculating the probability of being spotted, snatching her in plain sight. They wouldn't see his movement, but her absence would be noticed, and then his. Too risky.

There were too many to kill quickly without her realizing, and then running. Her blood would then be tainted by the adrenaline.

He could kill her first, then the others, but the thought of her blood cooling, when it would be so sweet fresh and warm—no.

She was to be savoured.

His monstrous nature was its own voice, squalling and raging for her blood, and his conscience shivered like she did, terrified by what his other self was planning.

"Her," he heard himself say, pointing.

The others he'd come with, whose very ideas he'd openly rolled his eyes at, stared back at him, some with widened jaws, more with envious thoughts. These only increased when he produced the first round of bills. More when he flared out the second.

They would remember her taking him. He would need to be seen returning her. He would then. And then find her later. Alone.

She shivered visibly, mind still silent, as she approached. The overtones of another odour reached him, and his monster growled. She taken something. Or been given it.

His conscience soothed his thirst. Later, it said. Later. You can have her later. Just let her live for now. While I find a way to save her.

Save myself.

"What's your name?" he asked, seeing her shake.

"Birdy." It was an airy whisper, the bitter smell of the drug stronger on her breath.

Lorazepam, he thought, evaluating its subtle odour. Meant to keep her calm. Docile.

"And you?" she asked, daring to look at him as he hailed a cab.

"Edward Cullen."

She said no more, taking the seat offered, as he murmured his destination to the driver.

His pocket was buzzing. He knew who from, and he slid his hand in to silence the phone, and Alice.

As they got out of the cab, a wordless few minutes later, he looked at her clothes, murmuring "Do up your coat," before they walked into the small hotel's lobby. She blushed, and her scent warmed with the moving of the blood.

Just wait, he told his monster, just wait.

"Why don't you take a seat here?" he directed softly, motioning to one of the upholstered chairs. She did without question, sitting as if she'd been programmed to.

Her hands still trembled as he walked away.

The room arranged, he pocketed the key, and then smiled a little, walking back towards her, hearing a very human sound come from her.

"This way," he murmured, gesturing towards the main doors.

Her face almost looked quizzical, but she smoothed it over quickly, standing and following.

He didn't touch her. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to wait if he did.

"Where are we going?" she asked, voice tremulous again.

"To dinner."

"Oh." The sound coiled fear, and anxiety and apprehension all together.

He paused, "you must be hungry?"

She nodded, but tentatively, following as he began moving again.

He slowed his pace, hearing her struggle to keep up with him.

The small hotel they'd left was adjacent to several boutiques. The sort of things Alice liked to shop at.

His monster growled, at the thought of his family. No letting them interfere in this.

No.

But his better self thought of the girl, and the unconscious tug she'd given at her shirt, trying to make it stretch to cover her exposed flesh. Of what his classmates had thought of the women they'd gaped at.

If he was going to kill her, he could at least let her enjoy a meal without being openly condescended to.

"Perhaps a quick stop on the way, though," he said softly, pointing to a shop window.

She halted again, with an obedience he'd expect in a dog.

Inside, he scanned the deliberately sparse offerings, pointing to a simple black cocktail dress. "That please—size, Birdy?"

"What?" she asked.

"Your dress size."

"Um, six," she said. "I think."

"And some more...sensible shoes."

"Certainly," the woman said, wide-eyed, taking in his appearance, and then Bella's. She almost tripped, moving to the rack. "Perhaps you'd like it tried on?"

Edward nodded at Bella, and the woman waved her hand towards the back. When she emerged in the dress, her stiff arms spoke of uncertainty at showing him. She wasn't sure she was supposed to.

"Perfect. Keep it on."

The sales associate arrived with a pair of shoes, which Bella slipped on.

Edward watched her take a tentative step, clearly more comfortable in these than the others.

Her own, flimsy shirt, shoes, and skirt were clutched in her hand. Edward pointed to a spacious purse that would hold them all. "And that, please."

From the clerk's thoughts, Edward knew he'd made her commission for the month, and her excited financial plans easily eclipsed her memories of him.

Good, the monster thought. No one would think to look for a whore in couture clothing.

But they might if she was wearing a cheap coat.

So he bought a new one of those too, carrying her old one out on his arm, slipping it into the trash, she not even noticing.

"Thank you," she said, the quaver in her voice greater.

Mindful of his own diet, he wondered at hers. "Do you have any dietary requirements?"

She looked startled by the question.

"No. None."

"Good. Here looks good."

It was a small restaurant, little tables lit by little candles. There were booths in the back, and inviting corridors beyond that, suggesting even more private places.

A well placed slip of cash ensured they were seen to one of these.

When the waiter asked what they wanted to drink, Edward hid a small smirk, and waved a no for himself, gesturing that Bella should have something.

"A cola, please."

He raised an eyebrow. Not alcohol. He hadn't expected that.

"You wouldn't like a glass of wine?"

"No, thank you."

"Don't drink?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She shook her head, swallowing, heart rate still much too high.

"You're nervous," he observed, wondering if the drug was silencing her mind. Silencing her. She'd barely said more than three words to him together.

She said nothing.

Then he realized, she had no idea of what his plans were. If she was new, as the other girl she'd stood by was, she'd be expecting a particular use, and one that made his conscience wince. He had no interest in such an interaction.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I had no intention tonight than sparing you the…" he searched for the right word, "attention of one of my classmates."

She watched him intently, hands still on her lap.

"He'd discussed his...preferences. You fell into that category."

Alex hadn't done anything like it, but his thoughts had been clear. It was close enough to the truth.

He kept his own motives silent, the monster salivating and waiting.

The more modest dress still exposed the length of her elegant neck. The garment's gathered silk had the enviable task of then slithering down her midsection, over her hips, and onto to the dimples just above her knees. Her fine shoulders, bonier than they should be, were revealed by delicately scalloped edging. He wondered what it would be like to touch that skin.

And if there would be more blood if she was a healthier weight.

Could he wait so long? He'd already waited. Perhaps a few more days? A few more meals?

But someone else might take her.

Not for your purposes, the monster purred.

Yet the thought of another man possessing her, even in ways she surely must have been had before, rankled.

She was still looking tense. Nervous.

"What do you want to do with me, then?"

What had people done with her?

"Spend the evening with you. Enjoy a meal." His lips curved up slightly at this, the monster fully in possession of him.

"And, what else?" she asked.

"What do you expect?" he asked.

Her hand jerked, and the fork it had been by clattered to the floor.

"Sorry," she said, her voice almost choked, reaching to get it.

His conscience reared up, slamming back his nature. How dare he toy with her! She was a person. He'd thought to buy her some small dignity, and then to dangle her over what must be terrifying possibilities—he almost mastered the beast enough to stand and leave.

Almost.

"It's alright," he said, putting his hand over hers. "You don't want to eat with something that's been on the floor."

She jerked back from the contact, breathing rapid again. Her eyes were large again too, either from the chill of his flesh, or the surprise of being touched. His bet was on the former.

"Sorry," she said, and then bit her lip, clearly flustered at having to continually apologize.

"I don't plan on doing anything you don't want to. And if you'd like to go, or do something, you simply need to say something, and you can."

He realized just how new to this she was, because she actually breathed out in visible relief.

She believed him.

She _trusted_ him.

The monster considered how useful that might be.

After a moment, she put her hands back on her lap. They'd been balled in fists by her sides. "OK," she said.

"Perhaps you'd like to order something?" he asked, seeing that she hadn't picked up the menu.

She lifted it now, eyes scanning the items listed.

When the waitress returned, Edward indicated that she take Bella's order first.

"And for you, sir?" the waitress asked.

"Nothing," he said, watching for his companion's reaction. Predictably, her gaze met his. "Severe dietary restrictions," he shrugged, pretending to sip at the water in front of him.

"You're a student," Bella said.

"Yes."

"What're you studying?"

"Medicine. And you, are you a student?" He'd seen enough of the world to know women practised the world's oldest profession for a myriad of reasons.

"Not now, no."

"In the future?"

"I hope to."

"And what will you study?" he asked.

"Literature," she answered, without hesitation, and some spark in her eyes returned, flaring, and then faltering with remembrance.

"What do you like to read?" he asked, intrigued. He hadn't expected intelligence. His monster had obscured all that.

"Austen, the Brontë sisters, Rosetti, Frost—"

"Romantics and poets."

"Yes," she smiled, a real thing that stretched wide across her face, coloured with pert roses in her cheeks, and something like happiness in her eyes. "My mom used to say—"

Then she stopped.

"What did your mom used to say?" he asked, not accustomed to be denied the finishing of a sentence, or a thought.

She shook her head. "She died, a few months ago."

"I'm sorry. Your other family?"

Her hair was like a curtain, swinging, leaving promises of what lay beneath it, when she signalled a no.

The food arrived, presented with a flourish meant to gather his, rather than Bella's attention.

"What are you reading now?" This seemed safer to ask.

"Nothing at the moment. No books," she shrugged.

Criminal, he thought, to be deprived of such a joy. He wondered why, and where she lived, that she couldn't have such a basic thing.

Past tense, the monster hissed, where she had lived.

"Why not?" he pressed on.

"I had an...unplanned move," she mumbled, taking a bite of food, no doubt giving herself time to think of a better answer.

It was ridiculous, but he wanted her to have a book.

"What would you be reading?" he asked, "if you had your favourites around?"

"Oh," she smiled again, "Austen. Easily."

"Mm," he said appreciatively.

This slow, meandering conversation unwound her interests to him, and very few of his to her.

When Bella excused herself to use the washroom, he summoned the waitress, slipping a note, and cash into her hands. Her thoughts fluttered with admiration and then fantasy, but she complied speedily with his request.

"Oh, I don't think I have room," Bella said, when he held out the dessert menu.

"There's no rush. Perhaps in a while?"

She nodded, not quite risking a smile, unsure again.

He asked her about other authors he thought might be of interest to her, stringing out their conversation, waiting. He was rewarded for his patience, his items arriving, he could see, in the waitresses' thoughts.

When he asked her about dessert again, she still shook her head, and he considered if perhaps her minders controlled this part of her life too. Keeping her thin.

His resentment for their control of her grew, layer by layer, with his suspicious, and then possessive thoughts.

The monster hissed out a "mine!" so that when they stood, his hand went to her back, just brushing the fabric of her dress. It was a ghost of a touch that he knew she didn't feel.

He let his greediness have its way, in holding her coat, feeling her wrists brush by as they slipped through the sleeves.

Her shiver was delicious.

Just like her scent.

"Here sir," the waitress said, handing him a small, handled paper bag.

"Thank you," he said, shaking his head at the change she proffered.

She would remember him too.

He needed to be more careful next time.

His mind almost choked on those words. She could be safe, he could leave, she could be—

MINE! The monster insisted, but it wasn't as deafening as before. It was buried under something. What, he just didn't know.

When they arrived at the hotel, her nerves flared up in a fine flush of perspiration on her neck.

How best to allay her worries?

"Would you like to go home?" he asked, knowing he was offering her one fire over another. She would be offered to other men there.

She bit her lip, and shook her head.

The lobby wasn't busy, but it was busy enough, conversations bubbling in the corners, with few quiet places to sit. He took one of them, patting the spot beside him, which she accepted, again perfunctorily.

"This is for you." He placed the bag on her lap, and watching her hesitate, said, "please, open it."

Inside, wrapped in delicate waxed paper against any stray moisture of a Seattle spring, were two books, one a compendium of Jane Austen's complete works, and the other, a copy of _Wuthering Heights_.

"They didn't have the Bronte sisters' complete works, unfortunately."

"You bought these, for me?" she asked, looking at him, sideways.

"It seemed unthinkable, that you not have books to read."

The breath that hitched in her throat told him it meant more to her than he'd expected.

"Thank you." The words were slips of air.

"There's a nice sitting room, if you'd like to go read them somewhere quiet." He didn't mention that it was attached to the room he'd let for the night.

When they arrived though, her realization came in the sound of a dry throat, swallowing, and a deep breath trying to retreat through a constricted throat.

The penthouse was well appointed, though small for what it was. The hotel's chief advantage was its bordering on a substantial grove of trees, their bases thick with shrubbery, soil rich and thick. Easy to dig through. Or bury something in.

The smell of the drug lingered still. Just a hint of it now. In an hour it would be gone.

There were claws in his midsection, scraping at a thirst that burned in his throat. MINE!

She gasped, opening a book, sitting down on one of the couches. "I'd heard about this one, but I'd never read it!"

"Which one is that?" he made himself ask.

" _Lady Susan_." She was open at the page, eyes hungry for words, slipping over them. Then she looked up, realizing she was ignoring him. "Sorry—"

"No, no," he chuckled. "Far be it from me to keep a woman from a book."

That smile again, blossomed, the pinks on her face mirrored in the magnolia trees he knew were outside. His monster's voice receded, dulled by this joy he witnessed in her.

He wanted her to finish her book.

And he wanted her to not. Because he wanted to have something to wish for her, to keep his baser self at bay.

He got the better part of his wish.

Her eyes, widened with fear, exhausted by apprehension, were sliding closed, and she, wanting to absorb every word on the page, was fighting the treachery of her eyelids.

When the book slid from her fingers, he caught it, marking the page with the bookmark the store had provided.

And then, because he wanted her to read his words, too, he wrote in the front cover: _I hope you enjoy these. A mind like yours deserves such richness. - Edward Cullen_

It was foolish, he knew, but it linked them in a way that offered her safety. If anything happened to her, he would be suspect. It was a layer of safety against his baser self.

Now he looked at her, small form curled into the airchair, the dress having slid up her thigh. Another monster stirred, this one different from the last, and it too wanted in ways he'd never known.

He dismissed it, much more easily than the other.

She wouldn't sleep well on a chair, he told himself. She should be in bed.

But that might frighten her, or leave her thinking he'd broken his promise.

He moved her to the couch, settling a blanket over her.

By the end of her sleep, some several hours later, he'd regretted his choice. Sort of. He'd had to rescue her from falling twice, her second almost risking her life. Again.

Touching her was...indescribable. Like something electric passed through him, but in a way that made him want more of it.

It'd been that moment that had loosed his nature, stomped back again when her sleepy breath hushed out, "Edward."

If he'd been human, he would've dropped her. This shock only made him put her back on the couch, and lightly tuck the blanket down again.

Then wonder what other thoughts were threaded to his name in her dreams. Clearly, she dreamed. Of what, he wished he knew.

The drug was gone. She was simply a silent mind. A mystery he longed to unfold in her spoken words.

She didn't sleep long enough. What woman did, when so employed? She woke with a start, hands reaching for her body, ensuring herself of its presence? Its integrity, more like, he mused.

"Morning," he said, rubbing his artfully wetted hair. He'd run the shower, to make it look like he'd been busy in some human routine.

"Morning," she said, lifting the blanket a little, checking, he could tell, moving her legs. He pretended not to notice.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Before I return you to your keepers, he thought bitterly.

"Thank you, no, I should go." She looked around for a clock. Spotting one, she gasped, "I'm lat—Oh no—"

"Late for what?"

"Curfew," she swallowed, clearly distressed.

"Is there a number you can call?"

"Yes, but—"

"But what?"

"They'll want you to pay for more time." She looked ashamed by this. "It's fine, I'll just go."

"I'll see you...home. Don't worry. It's my fault for keeping you. I'll explain."

At the club, Mac, as she identified him, hustled her inside, and then asked Edward, "happy with your purchase?"

"Very," Edward replied levelly, listening to the man's the thoughts. "But I understand I've kept her late. I wouldn't want that to reflect poorly on her." He held out a set of bills.

"No problem," Mac said, wondering if he should sample what she offered, seeing the business she'd already drummed up.

"And I'd like her again tonight. In pristine condition." And then, hearing more of Mac's plans, "in what she's wearing now."

"Sure man. There's a reservation fee, though."

"Of course there is," Edward said, handing over more cash. "Untouched," he clarified, and walked away, soothing his monster with what he wanted to be empty promises.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


	6. A Profitable Bird

A/N for 2018-09-01: Some of you have asked, via comment, if this story is based on personal experience: no. The inspiration comes largely from headlines, but also from the imagined slipping through the cracks that happened to an old school acquaintance, who is now quietly notorious as a victim of mass murderer Robert Pickton. Don't worry, no such fate for Bella here. I wish I could say the same for all such girls who find themselves in Bella's circumstances.

For those of you who write, you know that reviews are the drug that writers crave. No exception here. Love hearing from you all - even when it's just a word, or a smile.

~ Erin

FB: AT FlamingMapleWrites

* * *

 **A Profitable Bird**

Bella hadn't gone back to the house she'd first arrived at, near the club. When her client was 'done' with her, Mac had chivied her back downstairs to the other underside of the bar, this littered with mats, just like the church had been. This room, too, was locked, windows barred, and the emergency door nailed shut.

Now she tiptoed to her appointed space, apologizing when she brushed by Sally, who sleepily smiled, seeing her friend back safe, and then rolled back over.

Bella couldn't sleep though, after all the hours she'd had already. She'd pay for it later, she knew, when they were expected to be up until three or four, working.

Maybe he'd come again.

She strangled the thought as soon as it was born.

No point in having hope like that.

Or fantasies.

Her imagination had been brutalized enough by reality her first night.

She'd felt nearly numb, and dumb, struck by Edward's beauty. Then stunned by his kindness.

All this on on top of what he'd paid for her. He disposed of cash with a finesse that she'd never witnessed before. The total on the dress shop till had been a quarter of her mother's salary.

Here her heart fell again.

She'd hoped, in some logical part of her mind, that her debt was some amount she could possibly repay, that there was some escape she could wring from this misery herself.

Edward's money would have cleared her imagined sum, and more.

No, she was a possession, held until disposed of, or broken beyond repair. She was, for all practicalities, enslaved.

She would need to run. Somehow.

In the meantime, she needed to stop entrenching herself in any more debt, real or imagined. No more pills.

There'd been a few, and already she could feel the cloying anxiety slipping up her spine, watching every man who approached, wondering if he wanted to use her.

There'd only been one so far, and that had been enough to make her wary.

Maybe Edward would come back.

Or maybe David would.

No, she told herself again. Stay in the here and now.

There was only one certainty she could expect in her present circumstances, and a very few variations on what would flow from it.

But her mind stuck on Edward's face, and his name. It seemed familiar, like she'd encountered it before. She probably had, she surmised, but there had been so many names and faces in the last months, very few had stayed put. She let that wondering have its way, and then turned onto her stomach, burying herself in the better words, and world, of Jane Austen.

\- 0 -

"And everything is fine, Alice," Edward bit out.

Done with keeping their fight private, she used words they could all hear now. "And you know it almost wasn't. That's why you turned off your phone."

"What?" Rosalie said, looking up. She'd known they were arguing, but had only heard Edward's vaguely worded responses to Alice's thought questions.

"Nothing, Rose."

"If Alice is upset, it isn't nothing."

"It kept her from worse," he said to Alice. "You would've seen it if you were looking."

"That's a stretch, even for you, Edward. It was a huge risk. And if you had, God Edward, people would've remembered you. It would 've fallen back on all of us—"

"Hey," Emmett called, his voice filling the house. "Explain, for the rest of us, please."

"Edward picked up a hooker last night."

Jasper, Emmett, and Rose all turned and stared at Edward.

Then Emmett burst into a fit of laughter.

"Not like that, Emmett," Edward growled out.

This only made him laugh harder, "oh no, of course not, no!"

Alice was regretting her choice of words, frowning at her brothers in turns. "Sorry," she said to Edward. "But it was close, and you know it. You'd never let anyone of us live it down if we'd done something like that."

Emmett had recovered himself by now. "OK, fill us in, what noble cause were you serving, picking up a hooker?" A grin stretched wide across his face.

Edward growled at him, and Emmett raised his hands in surrender. When the aggression receded, he said, "I went with my classmates, fitting in. Remember?"

"Sure, sure," Emmett said, in a more subdued tone. Rose was glowering at him.

"Some of them came up with the idea to find some women 'to rent' for the evening. One of them had serious intentions of doing so...and not kindly. I took the girl he was interested in."

"What he's not mentioning is that he was so out of control, he almost killed her in front of all of them."

"And you took her for the night?" Rose asked, horrified. "We've just got back here Edward—!"

"Everything is _fine_ ," Edward gritted through his teeth.

Then Alice showed him what else she'd seen.

"Really?" she asked, a perfect eyebrow arched. "Is it?"

Edward eyed her darkly, anger making his jaw rigid. "I would _never_. You know that."

"Sure, you say that now," she muttered. "You're flirting with disaster, Edward." She stood and walked away, pulling Jasper by the hand. This left Edward to the tender mercies of Rosalie and Emmett, both of whom had questions ready, like knives, all pointed, sharp and ready for fleshy targets undefended by Alice's visions.

\- 0 -

"Wait inside, Birdy," Mac called, "you've been reserved."

Her heart sort of stuttered over the next beat, as he disappeared with the other girls, wondering by whom.

She sat there sometime, waiting, dressed as he'd directed her, books and purse left downstairs. She didn't want to risk losing them on the street, or having them snatched. She'd tucked both volumes into the bottom of her sleeping bag, hoping they'd still be there when she got back. Certain her probability for disappointment was high.

"You've been quite profitable little bird," Jim said, walking down the hall where she sat.

Not sure how one replied to a compliment on the commodification of her body, Bella said nothing, flicking her eyes up and then down in silent acknowledgement.

"I said," he repeated, lifting her chin roughly with his hand, "that you've made us some good money. You can smile and say 'thank you' for the opportunity we're giving you to repay your debt."

Or she could spit in his face.

"Thank you," she mumbled between his fingers.

"What do they want from you?" he said, letting her go abruptly.

"Different things," she muttered.

He chuckled. "You must be good. You can show me when you get back."

She closed her eyes and swallowed.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Yes," she made herself say.

He patted her cheek with a quiet "Good girl," and then walked back towards his office.

"Birdy!" Mac yelled, "c'mon!"

She almost tripped, when she saw Edward at the door. The relief was so viscerally palpable.

And foolish, a voice in her head said. What he wanted last night doesn't mean anything. He could want everything tonight.

And be brutal in the having of it.

"Hi Birdy," he said, more softly adding, "If that's your name." He pointed down the block, and then matched her speed, giving her space to answer.

She said nothing, hoping he wouldn't press this point. She wanted her name for herself. Not for here. For this.

He didn't, and soon they were at his car. It was black and sleek, with seats that smelled of expensive leather. He had to help her down into one of them, and again the touch of his hand sent a ripple up her arm. His skin was icy cold. He held onto her fingers just a touch longer than she would expect, and she dared to glance up, trying to understand the intensity of his face.

When he slid elegantly in the other side, he looked at her, sort of leaning back against the door, like he wanted more space than the car afforded. There wasn't much in his seat chair, and the proximity showed her that his eyes were a warm butterscotch. She could have sworn they were black the night before.

"Did you get contacts?" she blurted out, squinting.

He looked concerned, briefly, but then his calm face slid back into place. "No."

She didn't challenge him. It wasn't her place to.

"What would you like to do tonight?" he asked, turning on the car, pulling away from the curb.

She bit her lip. "I think I'm supposed to ask you that."

He glanced at her, eyes not on the road enough for her ease.

Again, not her place to comment. The other girls had been clear on that.

Don't do anything to make them mad. Apologize if they screw up. Say sorry if they can't get it up. Don't ever suggest they've done something wrong. Or that's their fault. Clients are usually drunk. Or high. Or close to being there. They might look docile, but it's all an act, and you're the thing that they can take their frustrations out on.

"Whatever you'd like," she said.

It was what Mac had told her to say if the client asked.

The first one, David, had, and she'd answered just the same.

Then he'd shown her.

When he'd had enough of her choking and gagging, he'd pushed her away in exasperation.

"Have you eaten?" Edward asked.

"A bit," she breathed out, recalling herself to the present.

"Then let's have dinner. What kind of food would you like?"

The wave of feeling swept up over her. It was illogical, and connected to nothing, and everything. To be considered. Asked after. It made her want her grandmother's food. Her hug.

"Italian, if that's alright," she breathed.

"Absolutely," he said, turning the car around. "I know just the place."

Sitting across another table, this one as private as the last, she dared ask. "How did you know about this place, if you can't eat anything here?"

"Some classmates had been here," he shrugged. "Said it was nice."

She doubted that from the prices on the menu, but nodded. It was safer to show unthinking acceptance.

"How're your books?"

"Good," she smiled genuinely, "thank you. And, for taking me out, again."

She felt stupid as soon as she said it. It wasn't a date. He'd bought her for the night. He could bend her over his car if it pleased him, and then use her as a punching bag.

Like Harriet had been.

They'd given her a few nights off after that. The bruises were too obvious not to.

"I enjoy your company," he said, but with a smile that was strained. Like he was sad about something.

"It's OK," she said, "you were really nice last night. I understand what you've paid for. I don't want you to feel...awkward about asking for it—"

"No," he said abruptly, his eyebrows shoved together. "I don't feel awkward, because I have no plans to ask for that. I just...want to spend time with you."

Why? She wondered. There was no future here. She was a...and she had to lurch over the words in her head: a whore. A prostitute. A 'fallen woman', as her grandmother had once scoffed out.

That phrase had been the butt of a few family jokes, when Bella, in her childish ignorance had asked if she was a 'fallen woman', because she fell so much. She'd pictured them as women with lots of bruises and broken bones. She hadn't been so far off.

Renee had thought it was hilarious. Threatened to tell the joke at Bella's wedding.

Bella had a sudden urge of wishing she'd asked for one of the pills.

Looking across her, Edward's face was a study in concern.

Feeling the tears just nudging their way out of her eyes, she muttered, "sorry," stilling the panic that wanted to join them. It wasn't safe to cry. Not at all.

That maxim from Patty had already been practically learned too.

"Don't be."

If he wanted to waste his money on her company, she couldn't complain.

It was better than David's way. Her chest bruising under the stricture of his belt. She shifted in her chair, still sore sitting on hard surfaces.

Edward turned his attention to safer interests again, and by the end of dinner had her laughing with a very convincing impersonation of Mr. Darcy.

"Do you like to swim?" he asked, as they left the restaurant.

"I do, actually," she said, noticing how he stayed close to her, but just far away enough that they didn't touch. She stepped just out of her expected pace, sideways, testing his movement. He matched it, perfectly. She wondered if he was an athlete, or a dancer. "You?"

"I love anything that involves movement. Running. Swimming. Dancing." He looked sideways at her, eyes glinting.

She smiled.

"Would you like to go swimming?"

"Sure," she said, "I, um, didn't bring my swimsuit, though," then felt her breathing hitch on itself. Perhaps he expected her not to need one.

"I prepared for that eventuality."

When they pulled up at a tall glass building, her eyebrows squished together in confusion.

"My place," he said. "There's a nice pool."

He wasn't kidding. It was part of the penthouse, which he apparently called home, set in glass that made it look like you could swim right over the edge. It looked as personally touched as the hotel, devoid of anything that would indicate he lived there. Perhaps he had multiple homes.

"There's a guest room there," he said, pointing. "Everything you need is on the dresser."

As promised, she found a robe, towel, and a modest one-piece swimsuit, which fit perfectly. It also hid the thick bruise that ran across her chest, and onto her back

"It's lovely, thank you," she said, coming out to join him. He'd changed too, wearing even more modest attire than her: a long sleeved rashguard and simple swim trunks.

They made him look even god-like than before.

She had to pull her eyes away, burying them in the carpet's subtle shapes.

He grinned wickedly. "First one in gets to pick desert." Then, several yards further from the pool than she was, went to sprint towards it.

She barked out a laugh, and went to run too.

He was already many strides ahead of her, head whipping back, grinning, when she hit a slippery spot on the deck, her footing sliding out from under her.

But it was his arms that broke her fall, his worried face over hers.

"You OK?" he asked, face closer, studying the movement of her eyes.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You were way ahead of me. You—"

"Did you hit your head?" he asked, voice insistent now.

"No," she said, getting herself upright.

His hand ghosted over the back of her skull, then flicked away, the space between them greater again.

"I didn't, I'm fine. But you were way ahead of me, and then you were right here."

"I think you hit your head."

"I'm _fine_ ," she growled, and then remembered herself, hushing out a quick, "sorry."

Shrewdness flickered over his face just before remorse settled in. "No, I am. I know better than to run near a pool." Then a playful grin overrode this. "Just shamelessly showing off."

She almost snorted. Him? Showing off? He barely had to do anything but breathe to impress people. She'd seen the reactions around her.

Felt her own.

He waved a hand towards the pool. "Ladies first. But maybe just walking to the edge this time."

"Sure," she said easily. It wouldn't do to have him think she was dwelling on what she'd seen. She'd puzzle it out later.

The water was warm, and after weeks of hurried showers, it felt marvellous to be immersed in the clear blue liquid. She wasn't a strong swimmer, but she could move well enough.

And then Edward got into the pool.

It was like watching a shark glide—his strokes soundless and elegant.

She paused, just to watch him.

"What?" he asked, seeing her still.

"You're just...a really...good swimmer." The words felt paltry, and grossly inadequate, describing what she saw.

"Not so bad yourself."

"Now I know you're lying."

He laughed, and shook his head. "You're stunning. I don't think you quite appreciate just how much."

She blushed, and then felt it all slide away from her face, wondering if this was where he asked for what he'd paid for.

David's ghostly hands found purchase on her hips again. He'd told her she was stunning too.

"I mean it," he said, seeing her face transform, "it isn't meant to be underhanded, or an overture to anything else. You're remarkable. In many ways."

"Thank you," she managed, hoping he meant all of it. She might have been able to tell, not so long ago, if he did. Now she doubted every motive, with every man.

When they'd dried off at the pool edge, he said, "they're some clothes for you in the dresser. Pajamas too, if you're more comfortable in those."

There were. Real pajamas. The kind her mom would have bought her. Button-down jersey bottoms and tops. As sexy as her dad's terry cloth bathrobe.

She actually laughed at them.

When she came back out to join him, he was wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Again, she stared at his turned back, glancing away as he twisted to look at her. He made it look couture.

"That bad?" he asked, eyebrows up, "Heard you laughing. Sorry, I don't have a lot of experience in buying women's clothes."

"They're great, no. I was laughing because they're something my mom would've bought." She'd prepared the statement, rehearsed it, so it wouldn't hurt to speak it aloud.

"Mm. Then I'll assume I was successful, if it was mom approved."

She smiled at this, and he held out a cup of tea for her, a soft "thank you," on her lips.

Then a surge of feeling swept over her, and she sat too quickly onto the chair he'd pulled out for her.

"Thank you," she whispered, trying to master the feeling, "for letting me feel normal." She wasn't quite successful, the tears starting. She wiped her eyes, willing them to stop.

His hand was half poised to reach out for hers, but he clasped it back to his other, and they both sat, staring at their own hands. After a moment, he said, "you don't have to go back, if you don't want to."

She realized just how precarious a point she stood on with these words.

And she felt very, very cold.

The tears stopped suddenly.

He could be testing her, for them.

All this could be a show. An elaborate assessment of her loyalty.

"I owe them," she said in a monotone voice. "I need to repay my debt."

"That can be done."

And then what? Be owned by another man? One whose motives seemed good. What did she really know of him after two nights? Nothing, really. His most cursory interests. That he attended medical school. Purportedly. That he had access to more money than she'd ever imagined one person having. Its origins were unknown. He could be as criminal as they were.

She made her breathing as steady as she could, but it remained shallow, as if she were risking something to move the air in and then out.

In her peripheral vision, she could see his face working. Looking for another way to reveal her disloyalty. Or maybe trying to relieve her of the burden he'd placed on her.

She spied a diversion in the corner. "You play chess?"

"Yes," he said, an elusive feeling fluttering over his face. "Do you?"

"No, but I'm a quick learner."

"I bet you are." He stood and picked up the board, bringing it back. "Do you know the pieces?"

She shook her head, and he began naming them, introducing her to the rudimentary elements of the game.

They played for sometime, until she stifled one, then another yawn.

"The guest room is yours."

"Sorry," she said, trying to hold in the next yawn.

"It's OK." His words were buttered with the captivating grin that slid up his face.

God he was good, she thought. If he was testing her. She wondered what he would tell them. If.

She was so tired though, and she would've stayed to watch this expression longer, but her eyelids were betraying her wants, and she stood, a quiet "night," her only farewell, as she walked towards the bedroom.

Would he care if she locked the door? Then she did, deciding he could use a key if he wanted her. It would at least give her warning. Unlike the last time.

David had let her go to sleep, too. Then woken her in a way she never wanted to experience again.

She shivered, remembering, stilling the sob in her throat, chastising herself. She needed to get over it. There would be more. It was just the meeting of bodies. The first was the hardest, all the other girls had told her. It wouldn't be so shocking the next time. Or painful.

When she woke in the morning, the door was still locked, and Edward was sitting at the dining room table, the smell of food fresh in the air. "Breakfast?" he asked.

"Yes please, but I can get it," she said, watching him stand and shake his head.

"So can I. Sit, please."

He came back a moment later with a plate of bacon, eggs, and perfectly cut pieces of toast.

"Thank you. That looks amazing."

"You're welcome. It's nice to cook for someone."

After a moment, he nodded towards her outfit. "Comfy?"

She'd dressed herself in the clothes he'd provided, and it was a luxury to wear jeans, a simple shirt, and sneakers.

"Wonderful," she said, letting a small grin blossom. "You have no idea how uncomfortable heels are."

"I can imagine."

How easy this is, she thought, and painful too, seeing something you can't have. Don't have. She wondered what it would be like to wake up in the same place as him each day.

If he really meant what he'd said.

No, she told herself. If you know anything, it's that you can only rely on yourself. Be done with this fantasy. It'll only be more painful to let go of, the longer you entertain it.

She punched down the hopes that wanted to have place in her throat, giving a polite 'goodbye' when he dropped her at the club.

"Wait," he called, moving out of the car with a litheness that compelled her eyes. He came close, his fingers just brushing hers. "I'll see you tonight."

Mac was waiting at the door, his larger fingers curled in command, beckoning her in.

Slipping inside the heavy metal firedoor, she tiptoed down the hall, when Jim's voice sung out, slightly slurred with drink. "Bir-dee! Where'd'ya think you're goin'? Come 'n show me why all the boys like ya so much."

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	7. Indebted

**Indebted**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-02: I won't apologize for the cliffie in the last chapter :-) I promised you angst - and angst you shall have!...except in this chapter. This chapter gives you a wee bit of happiness.

Love hearing your thoughts and reactions. They drive the writing like nothing else.

~ Erin

* * *

"She's seventeen, how can you not know where she is?...That's no answer...No, I don't want to file a complaint...I'm not being unreasonable. I'm asking you to find a minor that you're responsible for...yes, please do. Thank you." He hung up the phone, flicking the cord angrily out of the way.

"Still nothing?" Jacob asked.

"No," Billy grumbled.

"She's not the kind to run away."

"No, she's not." He paused for a bit, "I think we should talk to the police here."

Newly minted Sheriff Mark Barclay was disturbed by what the Blacks reported, and then eager to help. With a few phone calls, he had access to her file, eyebrows shooting up when it came in.

"What?" Billy asked.

He blew out a breath. "She's got charges pending. She's wanted."

"What?" Jacob spat out. "Bella? Little Bella Swan?"

"Yep," Mark said, not passing over the paper. "But on the good side, someone saw her, and called it in. That's...really rare."

"Who called?"

"Someone from here of all places, working in Seattle—at a dress shop. Couple days ago."

"How'd they know she was missing?"

"Saw a poster at a shelter where they volunteer. They recognized the name, and then realized they'd seen her."

"Have the police followed up?"

"They won't," Mark said, shaking his head. "Not enough to go on. There are so many missing kids. The chances of finding them, I mean, especially someone her age." He lifted his hands up. "She hasn't reached out, at all?" He watched them carefully.

"Just the one email," Jacob confirmed.

"The social worker sounds pretty useless," Mark commented drily.

Billy snorted.

"She could be waiting until she's eighteen, before she deals with the charges, if the social worker hasn't represented her interests well," Mark suggested.

"Would they have called around to homeless shelters?" Jacob asked.

"No. They don't tend to be...forthcoming with police. They might be to you, though."

"We need to go then," Billy said, nodding.

"It's the best chance of finding her," Mark agreed, "But honestly? Those odds are almost nil."

Jacob looked at Billy meaningfully, who said, "We'll go."

\- 0 -

"You," Mac barked at Bella, as she moved towards Jim's office, "downstairs. You're on hold for pretty boy again."

"Again?" Jim called out. It approached a whine.

"Yep," Mac confirmed, pointing Bella to the basement stairwell.

She was only too happy to comply, jogging quietly down the stairs, pausing to catch up on missed breaths just before the door as Mac unlocked it. She didn't want to wake any of the other girls up.

Pushing the door open, the wave of sound hit her. She didn't even hear Mac lock the door behind her.

Someone was shrieking, and other voices were murmuring, trying to offer unheard reassurances.

"I want to go to a hospital!"

It was Sally.

The crowd of bodies was standing, or kneeling around Sally, whose voice was hoarse with wear.

As she got closer, Bella could see why.

Someone was stitching a thick cut on her inner thigh. A man, by the looks of it, shod in dirty shoes and jeans.

"I don't want to nick an artery, so hold still!" he hollered.

Sally shrieked again, a guttural eruption from her throat.

Bella turned and ran to the back, reaching the toilet in time. Then she washed her face and returned to sit by Sally, finding a spot near her head, keeping her own back to the gory business.

"Hey," she said, "I'm back."

There was a wordless sort of grunting acknowledgement, and a sharp squeeze of her hand. Sally's face turned into Bella's leg, and she felt the warm, wet seep of tears there. She kept silence, knowing talk would do nothing, but stroked her hair, and stayed until the stitching was done.

"This is gonna sting a bit," the man warned her.

Bella caught the whiff of rubbing alcohol, and winced, knowing what was coming. Her own face squished up in empathetic pain, when Sally started screaming again.

"If it gets puffy, get her to a hospital." Then, directing his words to Sally, "keep it clean and dry. No working that area for a week at least. I'll come by and take the stitches out then."

The girls were shuffling around, rifling through their belongings, pulling out spare change, cigarettes, little bottles of booze, jewelry, and handing it to the man.

"You got something for him?" Patty muttered to Bella.

"Yeah, sure," she said, and went to the bottom of her sleeping bag, pulling out the purse.

The man's eyes widened, seeing it. "That'll do," he said, almost reverently, taking it, shaking his head at the other offers. "Covers the next few, too."

"Thanks Kim," Patty said, her smile small and flickering. "You got what you need for everything else?"

He looked a bit furtive, and Patty nodded, passing him a small bag of pills.

"Thanks."

"No problem," she said, watching him go.

Sally had sort of curled up into herself, sleeping bag loose over her legs, and it looked like she was trying to get to sleep. So were some of the other girls.

Bella didn't bother asking what had happened. She had enough of an idea. The details wouldn't make any of it better.

"Who's he?" she asked Patty, lifting her chin towards the closing door.

"Former military doctor," she mumbled. "Didn't come back right from the gulf." She tapped her head, and then shook it. "Needs a lot of pills, but he's better than Mac, with a needle and thread."

"Mac?"

"Shitty sewing skills," she said, flexing her eyebrows, and lifting her skirt. A vivid weal ran up her leg, in a similar spot, a criss-cross of scarred stitching lines still visible. "Least Kim uses some topical anesthetic when we've got it."

Bella wondered how many girls had died here, from cuts too bad to stitch, or ones poorly strung together, and infected. Or just disappeared altogether. And not to happy endings.

"She'll be OK," Patty said, turning away, finding her own spot on the floor.

Bella thought about Edward's words again: _you don't have to go back._

Maybe she shouldn't. Just say yes, and see what happens. It wasn't a matter of deciding whether or not to risk harm. It was a matter of determining when, and how it happened: with him, or at the end of another man's hands.

\- 0 -

He'd never seen her so terrified, as when he told her she could stay. That she didn't have to go back to her keepers.

He felt like an idiot after, realizing the position he'd put her in. She had no reason to trust him—and more to fear him than she could possibly understand.

The beast growled, rumbling in his frame, as he shoved it down with his better thoughts. With protective feelings that made no sense to him.

He'd bought her—twice. Returned her, twice, to creatures whose only interest in her was to make profit through her fragile flesh.

He would not return her to them again. That was absolute.

He wished he could be content with his choice, but he wasn't. He coveted her. The idea of freeing her, and never seeing her again made him wretched.

But it was right, and he wouldn't let her suffer for what he wanted again.

He could be wretched, but not her.

The smells of the neighbourhood assailed him, as he stepped from the car, and he picked them apart in strands: rotting food, diesel fumes, fluids of bodily origin, and a scrim of mist settling city dust over it all.

Then a scent, whirled around a building and invaded his nose.

He froze.

What were _they_ doing here?

The source was a few blocks distant, at least. He lifted his face, testing the air. Yes, at least that far. He kept walking, moving fast enough to look purposeful, but not so fast as to attract attention.

He was both relaxed by, and enervated by her scent, when it reached him.

But then it came mixed with the other smell, and he growled.

Almost banking the corner, he skirted a group of panhandlers, speeding himself towards her.

\- 0 -

They'd walked out of the dark and into the shallow pool of light thrown by the club and street lights.

Her eyes had widened in recognition, and then contracted with her face, in shame and terror. She looked down.

"Bella?"

She didn't dare lift her gaze.

But Mac had noticed. "Sorry man, Birdy's spoken for. Take your pick of the others." His gaze moved over Billy to Jacob, evaluating the boy's solid, but so far relaxed stance.

"Bella?" Billy asked again.

"Please go," she whispered, afraid for what would happen to Billy, or Jacob, if they persisted. Afraid of what would happen to her.

"What're you doing here sweetheart?" Billy cried. It was just above a whisper.

"Working," Mac answered for her, pushing the other girls aside to get to her. "Told you, she's spoken for. Pick someone else, or move on."

"She's family," Billy growled at him.

Mac laughed. "Well congratulations. Now get."

Jacob moved closer to his father, shifting himself to be almost between Mac and Billy.

"You want to stay here, Bella?" Jacob asked.

She said nothing, simply breathing seemed risky enough.

"You don't have to, you can come home with us." His young face was all earnestness.

Mac was done, though, and pointed away from the group. "Walk or be moved. Your choice."

Bella doubted the movement would be gentle.

Then Edward walked into the spread of light.

Jacob and Billy stared at him, their eyes growing saucer sized.

"Your customer's here girl, go," Mac called.

She pled with her eyes, willing Billy and Jacob to leave, then turned and walked towards Edward.

They followed.

"Oh no, back off," Mac snarled.

"It's fine," Edward said, making rare contact with Bella's hand, sliding her behind him. Like he was protecting her.

Jacob pushed Billy closer to Edward.

"Not here," Edward said quietly to Jacob, and tilted his head, walking back the way he came, Bella just in front of him. He shrugged off his jacket, settling it on her bare shoulders.

She could hear Jacob's hissed in breath from behind her.

Edward guided her into the first alley they encountered, catching her arm as she almost tripped. "Careful."

Stopped, with Jacob and Billy still a distance away, he turned to her. "You know these people?"

"Yes."

"Who are they to you?" His voice was gentle, but it demanded an answer.

"Family," Billy growled, getting closer.

"Are they, Bella?" Edward asked.

She winced, hearing him use her name. This ugly world, so full of horror was sliding over, infecting the old one she'd preserved, and she knew there was nothing now that wouldn't be touched by what the last weeks had wrought.

"Of a kind."

"Bella," Billy reprimanded her. "We are here for _you_." Then he looked at Edward, and a wave of hatred so ugly and wretched crossed his face, it made Bella miss a breath, to see it. "I don't know what the hell you're doing with a Cullen, Bella, but you need to come home with us. Please."

"Do you want to go with them, Bella?" Edward asked. His fingers brushed hers, and she shivered, but not from cold.

When she spoke, it was to Billy. "I can't. They'll come," she said, looking back towards where they'd been, "and I can't risk them hurting you."

"Trust me, they can't hurt us," Jacob said, chuckling, like this was laughable.

"He's right. They won't," Edward said to her, turning and finding her eyes.

Bella's eyebrows dove into a deep V. "You don't understand. They can, and the police, they—"

"We know about the police, Bella. We can sort that out," Billy said.

Here Edward shot her a questioning look.

She kept her gaze on the ground.

All these people, wanting to help, but the one offer she would risk, wasn't there again.

"Can you give us a minute?" Edward asked Jacob and Billy.

Jacob snorted. "As if."

"Is she harmed?" Edward almost growled at him.

" _Has_ he hurt you, Bella?" Jacob asked her.

"No," she said vehemently. The question horrified her. Then she realized it shouldn't. "No," she said again, more quietly.

"Just a minute to talk in private. For her," Edward said, the emphasis on the last word sounding strange to her ears.

Jacob's face was a twisted scowl as he hissed this out. "If it's more than that, it's the end of you. Privacy or no." Then he looked around the alley, as if establishing some significance to the place.

Edward nodded, these terms not surprising him.

Billy spoke, as Jacob pulled him away. "We'll be just around the corner, Bella."

Once they were out of sight, Edward dared to lay a hand on her arm. It was the lightest of touches. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"You know them." It was an accusation. The hatred had been clear on all their faces.

"In a way, yes," he spoke carefully.

"How?"

Edward's lips pursed together. "Our families are...old acquaintances."

She was readying words when he spoke again.

"I can erase your debt, Bella. Easily." He held up his hand when she went to interrupt. "And I'm sorry I haven't done it already. It won't make sense to you, but it was to protect you. The Black's protection is greater, though."

She put what she'd heard into words that framed her reality. "You want to buy me."

"No," he said, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it pained him to hear this. "I will erase what they think is their claim, because I want you to be free of it, of any obligation to anyone."

How could you be free of an obligation, when someone bought your freedom?

"I can only hope our paths cross in a way that you want. Nothing more. But I need to know, if you want to go with the Blacks, or if you want me to make you safe elsewhere."

"You'd take me with you?" she asked.

"If you want, yes."

She felt like her heart stopped.

He would take her with her.

And do what? Her well fed distrust asked.

Over her justified fears, home screamed her name, even though it was the faint and fleeting one that Forks had been. The thought that people might care for her, because they'd cared for her father, made her heart ache, strained and pounding in her chest.

"With them. Yes. Please." She choked the words out, trying not to cry, taking in air in sobbing gulps.

Then his arms wrapped around her, so cold from the night air, the hardness of his muscles a shock over her own rigid form.

He released her almost instantly, his face pained, pulling back. He nodded towards the alley's entrance, where Jacob and Billy were coming towards them.

"Wait," she said, turning back to Edward. She had to ask. Had to try. "Sally," she whispered to him. "Can you help her?"

"Of course," he hushed back, staying unnaturally still. Like he was holding himself back.

She had a feeling he would have said yes to anything she asked in that moment.

"Thank you," she breathed, and then moved towards Billy, who now folded her into his arms.

"Let's go home," he whispered, his voice as broken as hers.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	8. Arrested

**Arrested**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-03: Warning #1: back to work tomorrow, so updates will be further apart. Warning #2: There will be some more, short-lived angst in the next few chapters. Then, we move into the beginnings of some romance.

Your commentary on this story delights and motivates me like nothing else - thank you.

~ Erin

* * *

Bella remembered Jacob as a sunny kid. He was always smiling when she visited, a practical joke or two ready to be played. Some not so practical. Few wise.

His surly demeanour frightened her in the alley, but it lightened, the further they travelled from it, evaporating by the time they were an hour out of Seattle's city limits.

"Where's your stuff?" Billy had asked her.

She'd looked back at the club, a few blocks away, where Edward had gone.

"We'll get it for you."

"Sally'll know where," she'd whispered, not fully finding her voice yet.

Jacob had disappeared to the club, and come back a few minutes later with her bag and coat. That was when she realized she still had Edward's on.

"Doubt he'll miss it," Billy'd observed drily, putting a hand on her arm.

She'd flinched.

He'd let go immediately.

"That everything?" Jacob had asked, not even looking at her, swivelling his head around, like he was looking—no, trying to smell something.

Bella peered into it. The books, and her clothes were there. There wasn't anything else to get.

She nodded.

Putting her own coat on, she'd folded Edward's, noting the bulge in the pocket. Fingering it, she realized it was a wad of cash. "Oh," she'd said, holding it out. "I need to return this to him—"

"Trust me, you don't," Jacob had said. It was so bitter. It uglied his voice.

Seeing her distress, Billy had said more softly, "he has family in town, Bella. You can mail a cheque. Not a big deal."

She was parsing this connection, making sense of how close that link was. From the same town, and they'd met here. What were the chances?

And Billy and Jacob, finding her? They'd told her about the tip phoned in, but it was a far cry from there to physically locating her. Billy had joked they just sniffed around. She hadn't laughed. He'd explained they walked the streets and asked people. They got lucky.

Really lucky.

Jacob wouldn't let her drive. "You sleep," he said. "I'm good."

Billy had already nodded off in the back. She sat more uneasily next to Jake, trying to remember what it felt like to not worry what a man would do.

Her ordeal had not been long, but it had been powerful. She knew that. She just wasn't sure what the path was back to normal. If there was one.

The weight of the police worry squirmed in her gut. They'd told her that the charges would probably disappear. Foster kids made poor witnesses. She hadn't told them anything about the home supervisors. She didn't quite trust them with that yet.

Didn't quite trust them fully, at all. That was the bare truth.

It was a long drive home, marked by a few stops to stretch legs and eat, but little else. The Blacks were undemanding conversationalists, and she was content to be left in silence.

"You wanna stop by the house?" Billy asked.

She shook her head. She hadn't changed out of the clothes she'd left it, and she wouldn't sully the place with any piece of that, if she could avoid it.

When they pulled up to the Black's, Billy lifted his chin to the bathroom. "Go, make yourself at home."

She scrubbed herself down, piling the clothes into the corner, avoiding touching them when she was dressed. Carrying them out, pinched between her fingers, she asked, "do you have a burning pile?"

"Do you one better," Billy said. "Come outside."

He picked up a small stack of items from the counter, and led her around the house, to the back, where a small fire pit lay.

"Sit," he instructed her, and then more loudly, "Jake, give me a hand here, please."

Jake came out. He and Billy both wore different clothes, she saw.

"Burn those over there," he said, pointing to the wad in Bella's hand. "I'll get this one going."

Two fires?

Jacob's small conflagration was fuelled with the aid of some gasoline, unceremoniously dumped over the fabric on the ground, and then lit. He kicked loose dirt over top once the flames petered out. Then he came back and joined his father.

Billy was humming something tuneless, making his small fire of brush bits, then twigs, and finally, well cut cedar logs. He sprinkled tobacco over it, and then spruce needles. Then he tucked away some of the ash to the side, which Jacob scooped up with a tin cup. It smoked, and he wafted it over himself, muttering as he did, and then Billy, who repeated the movements.

Bella watched silently.

Then they turned to her.

"This will drive away any evil that clings to you," Billy said, handing the cup back to Jacob, who waved the smoke towards her in gentle upward drifts of his hands, circling her as he went. Then, pinching an edge of the ash, he dusted it over the backs of her hands with a light finger. "The cold won't touch you," he murmured. "And we will protect you." Then he smudged her forehead, and the tops of her shoes.

This done, he grinned widely, the old Jacob she'd known as a child, suddenly present. "And now, we have the ceremonial cheesecake, which if you really want to work its mojo, give all of yours to me."

It was so poor, and obvious a joke, that Bella smiled.

"Is there really cheesecake?" she dared ask.

"Yup. Sue brought it over while you were in the bath. She forgot the berry sauce, so she'll back in a bit."

She let her smile flicker again, her ease almost expended.

She was home. Or what passed for one. Now she just had to figure out what that meant.

\- 0 -

Bella woke, and lay in bed, thinking. No one had tried the lock on the bedroom door. There had been no stray hands in the middle of the night. This was good, she told herself. She still waited for those things. Her logical mind could not assure the more primal one that lay beneath it.

Getting up, she fished through the backpack. She hadn't bothered to unpack it yet. It seemed to great a leap to make, all at once. Maybe tomorrow. Putting on the clothes nearest the top, she tried not to think of when she'd bought them, squishing her forehead together, trying to recall what clothes she'd left at the house in Forks. Not much, she knew, but things that were hers—that had origins in happier times. Maybe they could go by and get some of them today.

Before she stepped into the small hallway, she opened the door a crack, not wanting to be surprised by anyone she'd find there. It was empty, and she slid from her room to the bathroom, locking it also.

She made herself take several deep breaths before she emerged from that, clean now, ready to face the men she'd entrusted herself to.

They were sitting at the table, Jacob hunched over a gigantic bowl of cereal, and Billy with the paper, a cup of something steaming to his lips.

"Morning," he called. "I think this hog might have left some food in the house."

"Checked on your truck too," Jacob smiled, ignoring his dad.

She made her lips turn upwards, approaching the space carefully.

Jacob moved to get up, and she stopped immediately, paused halfway to the cupboards.

"Cereal's just up here," he said, sort of half-up from his seat, watching her reaction. "Eggs in the fridge, if you want those instead."

"Thanks," she said, still frozen in place, like prey, trying to escape the notice of a predator.

Jacob sat back down slowly, and then picked up his spoon, focusing on his cereal again.

She unfroze then, taking precise steps, each motion completed with calculation. Avoiding the draw of their eyes.

She ate just as quietly, and appreciated that Billy used a soft voice when he spoke next.

"I've talked to Mark, down at the station. We're gonna go in and get this police business sorted out, as well as the foster care stuff. OK?"

"Thanks," she tried, working out a frog in her throat. She looked at Jacob, "and for checking on my truck too."

"No problem," Jacob said, getting up to put his dish away.

"I need to get new ID too, and go to the bank."

"Sure," Billy said. "You want to see about school too?"

She shook her head. Definitely not. She wasn't sure what people had heard about her leaving, but if she'd learned anything, she knew the news of her return would be well spread by now, and possibly, the circumstances she'd been found in. She didn't need that whispered about her at school. She'd homeschool, even if it meant repeating the year.

They piled into Billy's truck again, and made their conversationless journey to the police station.

Mark was waiting for them in the back, and with a pang, Bella saw he'd taken what had been her father's desk. She didn't look at Charlie's picture, set on the wall, along with the other's of the area's former sheriffs.

Instead, she dug her nose further into the fleece of her dad's jacket. Jacob had gone in to do a quick check on the house, picking it up on the way out, figuring she'd want something more practical than the one she'd arrived in. The leather had a rough sheepskin lining, which still smelled of old spice, gun oil, and smoke—like Charlie. Like the ghost of what had been her very brief home.

"Pam left the paperwork for you to sign this morning," Mark said, taking them back to the interview room. "Once that's done, you're legally in the Black's care, OK?"

Bella nodded, and BIlly also.

"Obviously, we've cancelled the missing person's report. Now we just need to address the warrants that were made for you."

"Warrants?" Billy asked.

"They laid warrants for several charges, yes."

Bella swallowed. "For what?"

He sort of tried to smile reassuringly, but it only made Bella's stomach lurch uneasily.

"There are multiple claims of theft and assault, and one for drug possession with intent to distribute."

"What?" Bella asked.

He listed out where the claims had originated.

"The supervisors there were giving drugs to other kids to sell. I didn't touch them—"

Mark listened, but didn't say anything until she'd finished. "Before we go any further, I need you to understand your rights, OK?"

Her stomach might as well have flopped onto the floor.

"You're mirandizing me?"

He nodded.

Her blood joined her stomach, pooled in her feet. She felt very, very cold, barely hearing the words. She was imagining another kind of incarceration. One that wasn't so far from what she'd already experienced.

"Do we need to get a lawyer?" Billy asked for her.

"It's her right," Mark said carefully. She knew he couldn't advise, one way or the other.

"Bella?" Billy asked gently. "You want a lawyer, before we keep talking?"

With what money? Certainly not theirs.

She shook her head, trying to focus. To think.

"What assets do you have, Bella, currently?" Mark asked.

"Pardon?"

"I'm establishing if you have the means to flee."

"My truck."

"Financial assets?"

"If my account hasn't been touched, I should have a few hundred dollars there."

"Cash?"

She thought of the money she'd found in Edward's jacket. It wasn't hers. She shook her head.

"OK," Mark exhaled, clearly relieved. "I do need to formally arrest you, Bella, and then I can release you on your promise to appear for court. I'll need a copy of your bank statement today or tomorrow, or I will need to remand you."

She nodded.

He read out the arrest charges, and then stood, indicating she should follow him to the small space at the back to take her picture.

Tears welled up. Charlie had let her and Jake play back here one year when she was younger, taking silly mugshots together. She never thought she'd have a real one here.

The flash was just as bright, and it made her eyes widen, startling under the light.

"Sorry," Mark mumbled, "this ink really stains, so wash your hands well when we're done." Then he went to roll her thumb down onto the paper, and she jerked it back.

The air felt like it was trembling through her lungs.

She hadn't really realized it, but he'd called her name a few times before she answered.

"Anything you want to tell me, Bella?"

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. His words were sort of sliding over her, she could tell, bits of them catching at her attention.

"Something happen to you, while you were away?" He lifted his chin towards her, one hand clutching the other, like she was afraid it would be taken.

She didn't want to lie to him, so she shook her head, swallowing, looking down at the floor.

"Why don't I get you to do this yourself, then. I'll talk you through it."

She moved back to the pad of ink, and paper, rolling out her fingerprints.

When they were finished their business with Mark, he said goodbye, reminding Bella to bring in her bank statement later.

"Does he know?" she asked Billy, when they got to the bank. "Where you found me? What I was doing?"

"No."

She couldn't tell what his expression was. She was too carefully looking at the treeline. "Does anyone else?"

"Just the Cullen boy."

Now she looked at them both, faces grimmer for the speaking of the name.

"What's your problem with him? Or his family, or whatever?" She flicked her eyes between them, trying to parse the minute expressions unfolding.

"They're not safe," Jacob said.

"Safe for what?"

"I need to get back for an appointment soon," Billy mumbled, tipping back in his chair, wheeling it backwards and then forwards, a mesmerizing rhythm.

"Of course," Bella said, recalling herself. She was their guest. Of sorts.

Billy nodded. "If you want more time, you could drive your truck back, save us a trip getting it later."

Mark had provided her with a temporary license. She'd have to make a trip to town to get a proper one, but it made her feel free, knowing she could drive.

"Would you mind?"

"'Course not," Billy said.

"Just watch third gear still. Seemed a bit stiff." She nodded, fumbling and dropping the keys when he threw them. He didn't approach to help her pick them up.

"You got some cash?" Billy asked suddenly. "You probably need some things." He was pulling out his wallet.

"No," she said immediately shaking her head. "I'm OK, I don't need—"

He wheeled over and pressed several bills in her hands. "Yes, you do. If you need gas, or you get hungry, or whatever. I know you're not going to waste it Bella." He turned his back, jerking his thumb at Jacob to go. "Just be home for dinner."

"OK," she said, watching them go.

She felt a twinge of guilt, that relief came with it. She was alone. For the first time in...weeks. At liberty. The word had a new, and profound meaning.

She ran her errands first, getting her bank cards, and statement, which she dropped with Marc. The line at the motor vehicle branch wasn't too long, and they promised a new license in the mail. Then she drove to the hospital, and to the walk-in clinic attached to it.

When she got to the question about the purpose of her visit, she left it blank, not daring to commit what had happened to the written word.

The nurse was a stickler though, and pointed to the blank space. "Need this filled in, honey. Otherwise we can't help you." She was chipper, handing the clipboard back with a smile. Like she'd asked Bella to write her favourite colour.

Faced with this, Bella wrote down the barest concerns in her messiest writing.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "Bad handwriting."

The nurse arched an eyebrow at her, and pursed her lips, but said nothing more.

When her name was called, she sat in a small room, opening the door when the nurse closed it, moving the chair so she could see out of it, and be near an exit. Just in case.

Carlisle Cullen paused, seeing this new and defensive arrangement. "Hi Bella," he smiled softly, surprised. "I thought you'd gone to Seattle?"

"I did."

"Visiting?"

"No," she shook her head. "Moved back."

"Ah," he said softly. "How's your hand?"

"What?"

"Your hand," he said, gesturing to her left one.

"Oh," she said. It was shaking. She'd not really thought about seeing a doctor, not before today, and what she might discover was making her insides melt together in the most unpleasant ways.

He pulled down the chart, and read the notes she'd made. He paused over them, his eyes not moving, clearly thinking before speaking. "Can you talk a little more about your concerns today?" He asked this gently.

"I think they're pretty clear."

"OK," he said slowly. "Let's start with some blood tests then. Have you had a pap smear recently?"

"No, never."

"Then it would be good to do that too. We'll need to take some swabs for the lab."

She nodded, trying to make all the feelings shrink inwards.

They caught on something though.

"I met your son." She blurted this out. Like he would understand the significance of it.

"Oh?" Carlisle said, glancing at her as he plucked items from a drawer, setting them on a tray. "Which one?"

"Edward."

"How'd you meet?"

It was the most innocent question.

She had an answer that didn't seem so innocent.

"Um...just in town."

Carlisle had made what was meant to be cursory eye contact, but he paused, witnessing the stricken expression on her face.

She looked down. "He helped me." Her words quavered as they emerged. "I don't know how to reach him, but maybe you can tell him thank you, from me." She didn't want to mention the money now. It would seem strange.

Carlisle was very still now, hands resting on his lap, listening. "Happy to. He'll be here this week." Then he paused, still watching her. "Sounds like you had a difficult time while you were away."

She sort of snorted, but even this was uncertain. "Yes. You could say that."

Carlisle looked at the tray of things he'd collected. "OK. I'm going to start with the blood work, if you're ready?"

She nodded, pushing up her sleeve. There were faint marks of bruises there. Mac's hands weren't gentle, and he'd towed her around with a grip better suited to a wheelbarrow.

Carlisle's eyes registered these marks, but said nothing, collecting the samples quickly.

When he slid the curtain shut in the room, she let her hands shake openly while she slid off her jeans. Then she made herself be very, very still, laying down on the table. "I'm ready," she called.

He pulled the curtain back. "Do you know how to do a breast exam?" he asked. "Checking for lumps?"

She shook her head.

"OK, I'll show you how. Can you lift up your shirt?"

She did, revealing the solid band of bruise that ran around her chest. It had faded, but the discolouration was visibly consistent. Deliberate.

"That looks painful," Carlisle murmured. "How'd that happen?"

She shrugged, feeling her bones slide uneasily around in her flesh. "It's fine," she mumbled. She was staring at the ceiling, very carefully avoiding seeing his face.

He showed her how to check for lumps, demonstrating on one side, asking her to try on the other.

Moving to the end of the table, he took in her rigid posture, and said, "can you try to let your legs relax, Bella?"

She did, marginally.

"You'll feel my touch now," he warned her, and then his hands moved away, replacing the blanket over her. "I can't do the exam today," he said, coming to sit around by the side of the bed.

"Why?"

"Because you have some lacerations that are healing, and I don't want to disturb them."

"Oh." There was a lot packed into that one word.

"I'll let you get dressed." He pulled the curtain shut.

It felt like he was covering up something unsightly.

She took her time, trying to remember in what order everything went on.

He was sitting, looking very focused over his notes. She had the sense this was for her benefit.

"Is there anything you want to tell me about, Bella?" he asked, looking up from them. His eyes, she could see, were almost black. She squinted a little. Hadn't his been lighter before?

What kind of people had eyes that changed colour?

His next words jarred her back to the present. "The blood tests will take a week or so to come back. Would you like to include a pregnancy screen as well?"

Oh God. She hadn't even thought of that particular complication.

Her face flexed, almost out of control. "Um, sure."

He nodded, too slowly. The scratch of his pen seemed loud. She realized he was mulling over something. "Do you want me to get someone for you to talk to, Bella?"

"What?"

"A counsellor, to speak with?"

"No, I'm fine."

His pained look spoke to her less than convincing performance, but he nodded, respecting her words and scribbling something onto a card. "If you change your mind, you can reach them here." His information was on the reverse.

She took it wordlessly, nodding her thanks, and leaving.

When she reached her truck, she sat inside and locked the doors, the sobbing and choking and breathing wanting turns all at once. She let her body express its distress, trying to corral the greater one exploding in her mind.

\- 0 -

She'd really wanted to say no, but Billy and Jacob hadn't really given her the opportunity, just said, "come on, time for dinner," and then jerked their heads towards the door.

The short drive down to the beach was a surprise.

"Dinner's here?"

"Council meeting's here," Jacob clarified. "To welcome you."

"Me?"

"Of course," Billy said, then frowning a bit, spotting Sue and Leah, thinking about something, "Should we have warned you, so you could...I dunno, dress up or something?"

This was the least of her worries, and she actually smiled at Billy's concern for her vanity.

"No, I'm just...surprised."

"OK Good," Billy said, grunting as he tried to lurch forward in his chair. Bella stepped behind and helped push him over the rough ground.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," Bella replied. It was nice to be useful. Even in a small way. She'd find more, as she settled in, she determined. Maybe that would help.

Maybe.

There were many introductions, most of them to young men shaped like Jacob. Large. Built like burly tanks. At one point they sort of crowded around her as Jacob introduced them, and she felt her breathing pick up, stepping back, trying to politely move away from their mass.

"Gezuz," Leah muttered, "quit scarin' her."

Jacob had looked sharply at Bella, stepping to put himself in between the group and her form.

Leah rolled her eyes at him and walked away back to where her parents and BIlly sat. "Come get bored with me, Bella," she called. "They're talking fishing."

Bella was only too happy to accept, sitting beside Leah on the log there. The smoke from the barbeque was being blown all around, and contented herself with smells that had nothing to do with the city, or its ugly happenings.

One of the boys, Paul, came and sat beside Leah, eyeing Bella. "Jake said you were hangin' with a Cullen in Seattle."

"Pardon?" Bella asked, the food she'd just swallowed pausing uneasily in her throat.

"That must've sucked," he snorted.

"Hey Paul," Leah said, just across from Bella.

"What?" Paul asked, his mouth full of hot dog.

"See if you can stuff the other foot in there."

He rolled his eyes at her.

"Cullens have a bit of a bad rap around here, kid," he said familiarly to Bella, "but the secret of your former company is safe with me."

Sam barked at Paul then, telling him to come help with carrying something, and Paul moved to go, snatching another hot dog from the platter in front of them before jumping lithely away.

No one demanded more words of her, letting her sit quietly amidst a generally calm babble of unimportant conversation. So when Harry Clearwater spoke her name from the peak of more formally shaped oval, she looked at him nervously, hoping this wouldn't change.

"We welcome you, Bella Swan, as one of our own, and we offer you the protection of our tribe."

She glanced at Billy, beside her, who leaned down and whispered, "It's OK. Just a formality."

She nodded, a near imperceptible twitch of her head.

Harry was still talking, but now relaying a story well cadenced with age and repetition. Things about spirits and wolves and cold ones.

She listened, sort of, exhaustion starting to liberate thoughts she wanted safely caged up.

When Billy leaned over with a quiet, "You ready to go home?" she sort of jumped in her seat, only half present.

She answered by standing, and helping push him back to the truck.

She thought it was odd, at home, when Jacob slipped outside, almost as soon as they got in, but was so tired, that she only locked her bedroom door, and let herself fall fast asleep.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	9. Necessary

**Necessary**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-4 - Warning: This chapter ends in a bit of a tough place. If you don't want to be left there, I suggest waiting until the next chapter is posted.

Finally: for those of you who've come on over from "Under the Broken Sun," it got nominated for an award over on TwiFanFictionRecs DOT com. So, if it tickles your fancy, feel free to vote for it.

Thank you for doing what you do best: reading, reacting, and reviewing!

~ Erin

* * *

They were just sitting down to an early dinner, a cobbled together assortment of leftovers, and the most wilted salad Bella had ever seen, when the approach of a truck made them look up.

"You expecting someone?" Billy asked Jacob.

He shook his head, taking another bite of pizza.

They heard the slam of a door, and then the thumping up the ramp to the house.

Jacob got up to open the door. Bella could see his form stiffen as he opened it, and then relax, seeing the delivery man there.

"Gotta package for Bella Swan."

"Oh," Bella said, getting up.

"Sign here, ma'am."

She took the pen, scrawling out a signature, not able to make sense of Jacob's wrinkled nose.

The driver left, and Bella, looking at the large box on the porch, wondered why Jacob was still looking at it.

"Let's open it out here so the smell doesn't come inside."

What smell? She wondered, looking at him quizzically.

"Yeah, I can smell it from here," Billy chimed in. Bella looked back, but his face wasn't distorted like Jacob's.

"Um, sure."

She pried open the box, revealing a card at the top, and an immaculately ordered clear plastic bag of clothes. The note's fine script read "Dear Bella, I'm sorry I waited as long as I did to help you in the only way that mattered. I hope you'll forgive me for that foolishness. As for more practical assistance, these were the clothes I bought for you. I thought you might have some use for them. - Edward"

She stared at it.

He hoped she would forgive him? She almost choked on the words. She couldn't quantify her gratitude, even if she could imagine the sum they'd demanded of him for her freedom.

She wondered if he'd secured Sally's too.

"I'm just gonna put these in the wash," Jacob said, picking up the bag, pinched between two fingers.

She sniffed carefully. Nothing, just...Edward's smell. It was almost soothing.

Jacob's face was wrinkled with disgust.

"Um, sure." Clearly something about it bothered him.

He disappeared, and she heard the distant clunk of the washer top close, and then the ensuing hum of it starting.

\- 0 -

She wasn't sure if it was a sound that woke her, or the substance of her dark dreams, but she stood by the window, making herself stare at the dimly lit trees, and the grass, and the moonlight that coloured it all. She wanted to see things that were real, and present, and very much not what her dreams had remembered.

Then a wolf trotted silently from one distant edge of the property into the dark of the trees. She gasped and blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then squinted, looking again. Nothing. It'd been huge. _Huge_. Was she dreaming? Seeing things? Her mind tried to puzzle out where the wolf would have had to have been to appear so large against the scale of things she'd seen around it.

She was tired, she told herself. Perhaps the angle of the ground, and the house were just right enough to create one of those optical illusions they'd learned about in school. That must be it.

But still, a wolf, so close to the house. She'd have to talk to Billy. Obviously they needed to keep their garbage inside, or be more careful with other attractants.

Jacob was already off to school when she woke up, Billy grunting in acknowledgement of the wolf sighing. "Not in the city anymore, kid. We get wild animals here."

She nodded, but wasn't reassured by his nonchalance.

"Wolves are our traditional spirit animals, Bella. Gotta special place for them in our tribe. You don't need to worry about them bothering you."

It seemed an odd thing for him to say, but she dismissed what now seemed like silly worries, in the light of day. There were more pressing needs.

Like groceries.

And returning the very large sum she'd found in Edward's jacket pocket. She hadn't looked at it that night. After the package arrived though, she'd pulled it out, horrified to find close to five thousand dollars in crisp, folded bills.

"I'm gonna run into town, get some things from the store. Get that money back to the Cullens."

"How're you planning on doing that?" Billy asked, suddenly alert.

"I'll put it in my account, and then write a cheque. Give it to Dr. Cullen, see if he can return it to him."

Billy looked like he wanted to say something, but shrugged instead. "OK. Then we get you set for homeschooling, or school, OK?"

This was a bit of a sore point between them. Billy didn't want her to waste time in repeating the school year through correspondence, and Bella was dead set against attending school in Forks.

"Always go to school here on the rez," he'd said. "Help keep Jake honest."

"Sure," she said, smiling. "Homeschooling."

He grunted, but didn't press the point further.

\- 0 -

She'd eyed the wad of cash, and the bank machine envelopes dubiously, deciding she'd feel better, knowing it physically deposited into a teller's hands. The clerk looked at the stack of bills, and mumbled, "just a sec. Need to get a bank manager to witness a cash deposit this large."

"Sure," Bella said, waiting, drumming her fingers on the counter.

This business done, she wrote out a cheque, and put it in an envelope. It had taken several attempts to write the note that accompanied it. She'd struggled to find the right words to thank the man who'd secured her freedom.

Dr. Cullen, though, wasn't at the hospital. No one seemed to want to tell her when he'd be in next. She sighed, and decided it would be better simply to mail it, using the return address on the box as its destination. It was a relief to slide it into the mailbox. Holding onto his money had made her feel uneasy. He'd already done so much on her behalf. To be indebted further, even temporarily, while she was responsible for these funds, was almost a physical discomfort

Her next stop was at the grocery store. She'd been there only once with Charlie, and its geography was still unfamiliar. List in hand, she was standing, staring at the cereal aisle, trying to find something reasonably priced, that they could all eat, when a familiar voice called out to her.

"Bella?"

She turned, startled at being recognized.

"Sally!"

She almost burst into tears, feeling her friend's body safe in her arms.

Pulling back, she looked at her, face clean of paint, and dressed in normal clothes. "How—?"

"Edward," she said, "he came back, after you left with him, and he," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "he paid my debt."

Another woman, and a girl about Bella's age rounded the corner.

The woman smiled at Sally expectantly. "A friend of yours, Sally?"

"This is Bella," she said. "Bella, this is Mrs. Weber, and Angela. They're...I'm staying with them for now."

Mrs. Weber smiled at Sally kindly. "You make it sound so temporary, Sally. We're just sorting out the paperwork so it's all formal. Where do you know each other from?"

Bella could see that Sally's face was a match to her own: paling, and unnaturally still.

Mrs. Weber shook her head, lowering her voice, "sorry, I know you don't want to talk about it, Sally. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's OK," Sally said, not quite above a whisper.

"It's good you have a friend in town. Are you nearby, Bella?"

"Out near La Push," she said.

"Going to school here?" Angela asked hopefully.

"I um, was thinking of homeschooling."

"Oh," Sally said, her face falling, looking at Bella, almost pleadingly. "I'm um, starting school tomorrow."

Bella could see the fear blossoming in her friend's features. That familiar, and protective pull, tugged at her midsection.

What kind of thanks would it be, to ask for her friend's freedom, and to leave her alone to face what she was too chicken to do herself?

"But if you're going to be there, maybe I'll try too," Bella said.

"Really?" Sally asked, the blood returning to her face.

Bella nodded. "But I should let you guys get your grocery shopping done, and mine too."

"Of course," Mrs. Weber said. "And we need to get back to the twins. Nice to meet you Bella." She rifled through her purse, writing down their phone number on a piece of paper. "In case you girls want to chat." Then she smiled, and the girls waved, and they were off to the till, their last items now in their cart.

\- 0 -

Billy had helped her put the groceries away, when they heard the rumble of a car approaching the house.

"Must be Sue," Billy said. "Come back for the carcass," he grinned, pulling out the empty springform pan.

Bella laughed. The cheesecake had been delicious. And devoured. She'd never seen anyone eat like Jacob could. Perhaps it was good she was going to be going to school in town. It would mean easier trips to the grocery store.

It wasn't Sue, though.

It was Mark, and a deputy, and a woman that looked vaguely familiar.

"Hi Billy," he said, grimly, not acknowledging Bella.

Bella's breathing was too fast, and a familiar feeling of panic was creeping up her back.

"I need to talk to Bella," Mark said.

He still wasn't making eye contact.

"Well, bring the party inside then," Billy shrugged, wheeling himself away from the door to let them enter.

"This is Pam Stevens," Mark said, "I believe you've met before."

It clicked. She was the social worker she'd met right after...right before she left.

"And you know Deputy Al Smith."

She didn't, but she nodded anyway.

"We're here Bella, because you've been released on the condition that you're not a flight risk, which was because, frankly, of who your dad was."

Bella swallowed.

This wasn't just not good, it was very, very bad.

The urge to run was strong, and she struggled to keep her feet from moving.

Billy looked on shrewdly, turning from face to face, clearly trying to find some clue as to their reasons for being in his house.

"You made a significant cash deposit today."

"Yes," she said. This was true.

"And you didn't disclose that you had that cash, the other day."

"That's because it's not mine. I mailed a cheque for it."

"Whose money is it, then?"

"Edward Cullen's."

"And why would Edward Cullen leave you with five-thousand dollars in cash, Bella?"

"He gave me his jacket, the other night, when Billy and Jacob came to get me. I didn't have one. I was going to go back and give it to him, but—"

"I told her not to bother. Pocket change for the Cullens. Figured we could do it later."

"And why didn't _you_ return it, Mr. Black?" Mark asked.

It was Mr. Black, now. Not Billy.

He shrugged. "Just didn't think anything of it. I should have. I'm sorry, Bella," he added, turning to her. "There's nothing fishy here, Mark—"

"Sheriff," he clipped out, his angry jaw was clenched. "Because you have drug charges pending, Bella, and you've now produced an unusually large amount of cash, I have to question its origins—"

"If you call the Cullens—"

"Dr. Cullen is away right now. I know because we coordinate emergency services. So I can't ask him."

"Edward—"

"I don't know Edward. I just know that you, a kid I also don't really know, has come back to town with a list of charges a mile long, after running away from a group home, with a lotta cash in her pocket, that she didn't tell me about when I asked."

Then he turned and signalled to his deputy, who produced a piece of paper, "this is a warrant to search your home, Mr. Black, which we're going to do now, and then I'm taking Bella into custody."

Bella sat down on the chair, because she was afraid she was going to fall down.

Billy looked at the paperwork, and then moved closer to Bella, taking her hand. "Bella, honey, I think you need to tell them what...happened to you."

"I have no proof," she whispered. "Nothing."

"Jacob and I saw you. I'll work on finding the Cullen boy, but you have to tell them. They need to understand."

She closed her eyes, and then breathed out shaky air. There were tears that peeked over her eyelids. "If I tell them," she whispered, "people will know. My dad would be so ashamed—"

"Your dad would be happy to have you here, alive and safe, with us." He squeezed her hand. "Tell them, please, or I can, but I think you should."

Putting her eyes to the floor, she began talking, making real with words, all that had happened to her, since she left Forks.

\- 0 -

Mark had listened, not unsympathetically, but more shrewdly than anything, to what she'd had to say.

She didn't bring her eyes up to meet anyone else's in the room.

"Do you have any proof of this, Bella?"

She shook her head. "My friend Sally, she's staying with the…" she searched for the name, and then pulled the number from her pocket, "the Webers, I think."

"How old is she?"

"Fifteen."

He shook his head. "Too young."

"Edward can verify it." She'd already given them his address. The box, that he'd sent her things in, had been burnt. Along with the note. Damn Jacob's sensitive nose.

Then the deputy walked out with her backpack. Someone had finally gone digging through it. Just not her.

"Here," he said, lifting his chin towards it significantly, holding it out, open, to Mark.

"These yours?" Mark asked, pulling out a small ziploc bag, several little pills forming a neat line along the bottom of it. The brand and dose were stamped on each one.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Your backpack, though?"

"Yes, but—"

"I'm sorry for what's happened to you Bella, I really am, but I have to remand you." He looked at the bag. "This is evidence." He sighed, and then said, "Stand up, please, Bella."

Billy objected at this point, seeing what was coming. "Do you really need to do that?"

Mark ignored him. "Do you have any weapons on you?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Arms out, please."

She tried not to flinch when he patted her down. She wasn't successful.

"Come on, please," Billy said, watching pull out his handcuffs, "she isn't gonna give you any trouble."

Mark was watching Bella's face whiten at the sight of them.

"I'll go with you," she said, clearly anxious.

"Turn around, please."

She wanted to comply, to avoid what she knew was a futile struggle, but her body refused her mind, and she pushed away, struggling for the door.

It was ugly.

Al jumped to catch her around the waist, and they both went down, she with a hard thump to her side. A scrape up her arm.

Bella knew Billy was talking, trying to calm her down, to reassure her, but the words simply slipped over her panic, and sobs, as she felt the pinch of the metal in her wrists, and the rough pull of both men's arms lifting her up.

She was pleading. Begging. Saying things that made no sense. Kicking. Trying to stop them from taking her.

Mark and his deputy continued their grim task, Pam following close behind, as Billy watched helplessly from the porch, his face taut and pained.

Then she was in the back of the squad car, a cage in front of her, and locked doors to either side, being taken to yet another place she didn't want to go.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	10. Internment

**Internment**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-05: This is short, but should bring some relief after the last chapter. I'm not replying to all the reviews, but definitely to all the ones with questions.

Your words fuel mine - so comment away. I am hungry for your thoughts.

~ Erin

* * *

She hadn't exactly calmed down, but she'd stopped making noise. Or moving much. Every breath in was tenuously pulled, the release jittery and clenching, like she wasn't ready to let go of the air.

The car ride was a good ninety minutes. Lots of time to realise she had no way out of this.

Her release was in Billy's hands. And she was in the care of someone else's.

"Bella," Mark sighed, "I'd really prefer not to have to carry you inside. Will you cooperate?" He sounded tired. Sad.

She nodded, and followed them, trying to keep her hands still, to not feel them. She was afraid of what she might start remembering, if she did.

The sign outside the facility read "Clallam County Detention Center". It looked more like an office building, than anything else, wide sliding doors opening as they approached. They passed through these, and then another set. When these locked, Mark removed the handcuffs.

"We're going to stay here, Bella, while you go through to the next section. They'll walk you through processing from here."

She nodded, and as they turned to walk back, said, "Please try to talk to him—Edward."

Mark nodded, blowing out a breath. "I'll try, Bella." He words didn't convince her of his intention.

Then the door buzzed, and a voice over the intercom instructed her to move forward, which she did, and the the new doors behind her clicked shut. She felt like she was in one of those glass fun-houses, where you try to find your way out. Except, there was no way here.

Processing, as they called it, was at least bearable. No one touched her, or demanded the sight of her flesh unclothed.

"Any medical concerns?" the officer asked.

Having already had her liberty stripped in so many other ways, she shook her head, keeping her hurts private.

The officer looked at her, a soft smile on his face. "Some bad things happen to you?"

She nodded.

"Hard to talk about?"

More nodding.

"OK," he said, looking down at the paperwork in front of him. "Would you like to talk to one of the counsellors?"

Could they use what she said against her? Probably.

"No."

He didn't seem surprised by this.

"Dinner's kinda early here, so you've missed it, unfortunately, but I can find you something if you're hungry?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

He kept talking, asking questions that she could shrug to, impervious to the meanings they offered and required.

Eventually, she stopped even that gesture, all of it feeling heavy. Exhausting.

Pointless.

Her hope had been a small, but sturdy flame.

Mark's disbelief had completely extinguished it.

He was simply one person of several who had the power to make decisions for her. And he hadn't believed her. What was the point in talking to anyone else, if all she could expect was more of the same?

This dark pool was easy to slide into. It wouldn't disappoint. Its inky depths were well known.

"Bella?"

She stared past his shoulder to the wall, an undemanding pastiche of pockmarked grey.

The man pressed a button and started muttering into an intercom.

It didn't matter. It just didn't matter.

\- 0 -

Sam's surly voice was still ringing in his head, making his head ring—angrily. The man had delayed. Wasted precious hours and opportunities for the sake of spite.

"He seemed to think you'd want to help. Her name's Bella Swan. She's been arrested," he'd grumbled into the phone.

"Arrested? Or remanded?"

"Remanded," Sam said.

"Do you know where?"

Sam had snorted out a "ask Billy." Then he'd hung up.

Edward had—while texting Jasper, and emailing Alice with his other hand. Hoping they were close enough to be useful.

And now, the full weight of his wealth set to her cause, he was on his way there.

"They don't like removing juveniles at night," the lawyer had warned him.

"Not particularly concerned with what they like," he'd gritted out.

The lawyer was on his way too, a judicial order in hand.

Billy Black's stewardship had been so far less than satisfactory, it galled him, knowing she'd still legally be his responsibility.

Edward gritted his teeth, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel.

He'd almost yelled at Billy for the stupidity he'd shown. How he could even be competent to care for his own son, let alone her—and now she'd been held for the better part of the weekend. Money was useful, but it wasn't magic, and even friendly judges had to be persuaded at decent hours. Given time to consider and then write orders.

"She goes with us," BIlly said to him, waiting in the darkened parking lot.

"She goes where she wants to," Edward growled back at him.

His human pretense was very, very thin. Gavin, the lawyer, had been dispatched inside to fetch her, visitors otherwise barred by the time of night.

Then Edward stood taller, hearing the man's thoughts.

"She's not well," he murmured.

Jacob growled, not liking that Edward could see what he couldn't—not liking—oh, really?—Edward thought, almost laughing, then feeling a chill his body had no right to. The boy was jealous. This would have been nothing in a human, but in a wolf—dangerous. For her.

"Control yourself," he hissed at the boy.

But it was too late.

Jacob began to vibrate, and Billy pivoted, alarmed by the sensation traveling through the chair. He pushed himself back, mouthing a frantic "Go!" to his son. Jacob needed no second telling, and bolted for the treeline.

The detention centre was remote enough to be a pond of civilization dwarfed by trees.

Billy rubbed his face in his hands, anxious thoughts bubbling and popping.

Edward ignored them, listening more intently to what was going on inside.

There was some mild panic, his—Bella's—he corrected himself, lawyer asking hard questions about the state she was in.

The nurse had been called up, and was checking her, Bella's fluttering hands trying to push him away. She couldn't.

She was dehydrated. Badly. The garbage can by her bed full of food.

She hadn't eaten.

But it hadn't been long enough for it to be so bad—something else was wrong.

Edward's hands twitched.

He closed his eyes briefly, and breathed out in relief when the lawyer told them to just get her ready to go. He'd get her to a hospital himself. The care here clearly wasn't adequate.

A small smile crossed Edward's face. _He_ would get Bella to a hospital himself. With Billy's consent. The old man couldn't drive her there without Jacob, and he couldn't deny that she needed one.

Seeing her pushed outside in a wheelchair, Billy's face fell. "Bella, honey. What happened?"

"They think she's dehydrated," Gavin said, handing over a paper file, "you'll need to get her to a hospital."

Billy apprehended his inability to do so, looking out towards the forest.

"Wasn't your son with you?" Gavin asked, frowning.

"Yeah. He um, he...yeah. He'll be back in a bit." Then he looked at Bella, blowing out a frustrated breath.

Nodding at Edward and Billy, Gavin jangled his own keys, and turned to leave.

It struck Edward, hearing BIlly's thoughts, that as much as he despised what Edward was, he had faith in his good will for this girl. His love for her equalled his deep, and well founded distrust of the Cullens.

"Would you take her?" he asked. What it cost him to ask, was written in the pained lines of his face.

"Of course," Edward said quietly. Bending down, he spoke softly to Bella. Her eyes flicked to him, but then her gaze slipped, and dissolved into an unfocused blinking. She didn't object when he picked her up, listless in his arms, or when he settled her again in his car.

Billy came close. "I'll be there as soon as I can, OK? Just hold on."

Her eyes moved towards him, and then slid away again.

"Just hold on, Bella, OK?"

Edward nodded at him, and closed the door, getting in and starting the car, speeding away.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	11. Release

**Release**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-08: A reader commented: "I bow down in reverence, awe, and maybe a little bit of fear regarding just how dark are the ideas brewing in that imagination of yours." No doubt, I do write some dark stuff, and completely understand where this comment comes from. I assure you, my mind and life are very typical: I teach high school English, and herd my four children with a modicum of success. I'm also a very anxious person, and have found stories to be an excellent place to stick said anxieties. I can create problems for my characters, and then resolve them in ways of my own choosing. It's soothing, that control. Strange as it seems, it keeps me from perseverating needlessly over real life worries.

I'm still blown away that other people find what I write enjoyable.

As always, I'm eager for specific, informed, and constructive criticism of my work. One thing that I've wondered about this week is if I have an appropriate balance of description to dialogue. I worry I'm over-describing, and wonder if I could be more efficient with my prose.

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts,

~ Erin

* * *

She'd been afraid of being detained. Had imagined the room Mac had shoved her in. Remembered the man he'd brought. Thought she would be made to endure such things again. It had been an illogical fear, born of all the distress that Mark's confrontation had wrought.

It had been a small room, but no one had troubled her there, food and drink slipped inside on a tray when she didn't come out for meals.

She'd shrunk into herself, aided by the shrinking of her flesh and its intentional desiccation.

A starving body feels so much less than a fed one.

She was more alert now, resentment growing for what hydration was doing to her—for the circumstances it recalled her to.

There was an IV taped to her arm. She reached over to yank it out, and a cold hand stopped her.

"Sorry," Edward said, when her shriek ended, "but you need to leave that in."

Bella stared at him. He was there. He'd come back.

He'd pulled his hand away, fingers tangled together as he leaned forward in the chair.

She took a series of very short breaths. Something was beeping loudly behind her.

Edward reached over and pressed a button, silencing the sound.

The door to the room opened, and a nurse came in, her blue scrubs tight across a wobbling midsection. "Oh, you're up," she smiled. She had a stethoscope in hand, and waddled to the bed, moving to put the metal disc to Bella's chest without warning.

Bella's un-IV'd hand jerked up defensively, giving the nurse a hard, and unintentional smack to the face.

"Hey!" the woman said angrily, stepping back, rubbing the smarting flesh

"Don't touch me," Bella snarled. Anger, so well suppressed in the last weeks, flared up usefully.

The nurse was still breathing hard. When she moved to come closer again, Edward stood abruptly. "Perhaps you can come back later?"

"I have checks to do," she said through surly lips.

"You could do them later," Edward suggested politely.

"Who're you again?" she asked, tone more aggressive than necessary. "Family?"

"A friend."

"Get out," Bella said, looking at the nurse, knowing her a threat to Edward's presence.

The woman arched her eyebrows towards her. "Pardon me, kid?"

"Get out."

"I'll get someone else," she said curtly, turning and going, body still full of indignant stiffness.

Bella's good hand pulled off the monitor on her other hand, and then reached for the IV again.

"Bella, don't."

Her hand continued its work.

"She's going to have them put you in restraints." The words were rushed out.

"What?" Bella asked, stopping, looking at him.

"She's going to ask the doctor to put you in restraints," he repeated.

"How do you—?" she looked outside the room. There was no way he could hear.

The nurse was on the phone, turning around, looking into the room, scowling as she talked.

"She's looking for a resident to sign off on it."

"How can you know that?"

"Do you really want to risk it?"

Bella looked at the nurse, still muttering into the receiver, and then at Edward.

"I have no legal authority to stop her. You'd need to wait for BIlly, and I'm not sure when he'll get here."

He was clearly distressed by what he imagined happening to her.

She didn't release the IV needle, asking, "how do you know what she's saying?" It was too specific, she knew, to be a guess.

"I heard her, Bella," he said, like it was obvious, but she caught a tiny wrinkle of worry at the bridge of his nose.

"Then why can't I?"

"You're hardly well."

Her hand tightened over the IV.

His cold one came to rest lightly on her taut forearm, and he leaned forward, "she's found someone." His eyes pleaded with her.

"How can you hear?" she said, holding back the shake that was growing. She wanted to know.

"Please," he whispered, his face now visibly pained.

This small word undid her resolve. She let go of the needle.

Edward leaned back, posture softened by relief. He looked pointedly at the nurse, whose body language also seemed to relax.

"She's a troublemaker," Edward said, lifting his chin towards the sullen face near the window. "My Dad's talked about her. Likes the night shifts, when she can intimidate the residents."

Bella listened, watching his eyes, now a dark ochre, thinking of his cold hands, and that night they'd gone swimming.

Thinking of the stories that Harry Clearwater had told.

"Why'd you come?" she asked him.

"How could I not, Bella? You—" he paused. "I'm sorry. I never thought the money I left you would cause problems."

"You left it for me?"

"Of course." He said it like it was obvious.

Her face fell.

Then he pulled in a breath. "No, not like that. It's just, you had nothing, Bella. I wanted you to have something, if you needed to leave, if anything happened with the Blacks."

Her expression changed, relief, understanding, and surprise all vying for space in her eyes.

He kept talking, almost as if he wanted to fill the space before she could. "The lawyer who removed you from the detention centre can help you—" He held up his hand to let him finish, her open mouth closing again. "I know who your father was, Bella, but you should never speak to a police officer without an advocate. Not when there are charges against you. That BIlly Black let you—" he grimaced, and clenched his jaw, holding back his recriminations.

She had so many questions, but they disappeared suddenly. She had no right to them. He'd saved her. Twice.

"Thank you. I owe you—"

"Nothing. You have no idea how true that is. I owe you."

How he could possibly wrangle this conclusion from what had transpired, she had no idea. She buried her confusion in an observation that wanted explaining.

"You don't seem to like the Blacks." Her voice was small, as she uttered this, and she twitched the bedsheet between her fingers, not looking at him.

"They haven't done a very good job of taking care of you." The neutrality in his voice was strained.

"It's not their fault."

She heard his huffed out breath. "I didn't entrust you to them so I could collect you from jail. And then have to take you to the hospital."

This too, was not their fault.

He seemed to realize this, because his voice softened, "Why did you stop eating and drinking?"

She pulled in a shaky breath and then let it out, swallowing. Looking for some water, she found it in his hand, held out to her. It was uncanny, his intinution. Taking it, she had a small sip, and put the cup down carefully on the table.

Running through her mind was the question: who is he to me? Really? A man of unearthly beauty and wealth who seems to feel he has some obligation to my wellbeing. Has said he owes me. All things that are too good to be true. If they seem that way, they likely are.

So she answered honestly, knowing the truth would likely end whatever this was between them.

"It was safer," she said finally.

"Safer than what?" he demanded.

"Hoping," she shrugged. "Enduring more." She'd retrieved her eyes from his face, settling them instead onto the safer territory of her nervous hands.

"No," he said, voice almost quavering. "You are not allowed to give up. You are so young, and you have so very much of a long and good life ahead of you."

This seemed so laughable at the moment that she did, but only briefly. Tears capped her efforts.

"Why do you care?" she asked. "I was—you bought me. You've been...more than kind, and I don't understand why you feel obliged to me—but I'm so not worth your time. I mean, look at you."

"Look at me?" He barked out a laugh. "Yes, I suppose you would see that." His face became gentle again. "I have nothing compared to you. Look at yourself," he challenged her. Then he stood abruptly. "Billy will be here soon," he said, "and his son," he added, with the barest hint of a sneer.

"Wait," she said, panicked and ashamed at the feeling, seeing him start to go. "I never thanked you, for Sally—"

"It was nothing," he murmured, "of course I did. They're all free, Bella. Their keepers are in jail."

Her eyes widened.

"You'll see me," he said, and then walked from the room before she could say or ask more.

His timing had been impeccable. She watched Billy appear in one of the side windows, and then Jake, behind him. After talking with the nurse, they entered.

"Bella," Billy breathed worriedly, "you look so much better."

"I am," she said. She wasn't sure what else to add to this, so asked the one logical question that'd been bothering her, "where've you been?"

There was an awkward sort of pause, where Jacob's weight shifted. "Sorry," he said, "I um, had some...stomach troubles. It took a while."

It was so normal. So clearly Jake, that Bella laughed, "sorry Jake, but your guys' cooking sucks. No wonder."

Billy and Jacob chuckled. Nervously. Like they were relieved.

"Can we go home?" Bella asked, anxious to be away from the hospital. Away from the powers given people in uniforms.

"And subject you to more of my cooking?" Billy joked. "No, not tonight. Tomorrow, OK?"

Bella couldn't bring herself to even smile nervously, a solid frown wrinkling her face, as she looked outside at the nurse, who was still shooting her own scowling glances towards Bella's room.

"OK, but you'll get me tomorrow?" she asked.

"Oh no," Billy said, "we're staying here."

The thought of them so inconvenienced and uncomfortable made her squirm. "But there's nowhere for you to sleep. I'll be fine. I'm sure—"

"No offense, Bella, but I'd rather stay, and make sure you're OK myself." He held up his hand, preventing further protest. He made himself comfortable in his chair, jacket tucked up by his head for a pillow.

Jacob actually looked cozy on the floor, or at least his snores seemed to suggest it.

Bella didn't sleep much, between twitching at their noises, and then puzzling over what Edward had said.

When they left to get breakfast, assuring her they'd be back in an hour to take her home, she was too tired to object, slipping into a fitful nap.

It was a very soft rustling of paper that woke her up.

She blinked, and found Dr. Carlisle Cullen standing at the foot of the bed, eyes busy with her chart.

"Sorry," he murmured, seeing her look. "Tried to be quiet."

"It's OK," she yawned, sitting up, pushing her hair out of her face.

He frowned, seeing the dark scrape on her forearm. "Can I see that?"

She held her arm out, and he took it lightly, just brushing at the skin that was starting to puff by the abrasion. "That's getting infected," he murmured. "How'd that happen?"

She wasn't sure how much he knew, and she didn't want to enlighten him anymore than she needed to. "Um—"

"Did this happen when you were incarcerated?" he asked, sparing her the decision.

She flushed, and shook her head.

"OK," he said, "can you tell me how, please? I just need to know to make sure we treat you accordingly."

"I didn't go willingly, with the police," she mumbled.

"I see," he said. "I think we can rule out a hepatitis shot then."

"Good," she said. She hated needles.

"I did wonder why Sheriff Barclay asked for my son's contact information, though," Carlisle said, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking her IV site, smoothing down the tape a bit.

His hands were cold too.

Maybe a family trait.

Like the eyes that seemed to bleed from one colour to the next.

"Is anything else hurting?" he asked, eyebrows pulled together. The 'anything' was emphasized.

"My ribs," she mumbled, tilting her head towards the affected side.

"May I?" he asked, moving his hands towards her shirt.

She nodded, and he lifted it up, revealing a blotchy spread of bruises running down her side.

Catching his look, she said, "happened the same time as my arm."

"Which was?"

"Friday."

"Can you take a deep breath for me?" he asked, still looking at them.

She tried.

"A deep one," he asked again.

She tried.

His frown deepened, but he replaced her shirt.

"OK," he said. "I want an x-ray, just to make sure we're not dealing with anything else." Then he stopped, thinking. "Which will have to wait."

"Why?" Bella asked, finding his turn-around in decision odd.

"At least until your bloodwork comes back."

A chilling nausea roiled in her stomach. "Right."

"It'll only be a few more days, and its very unlikely Bella, given what you told me. It's just a precaution."

She nodded.

"Topical antibiotic ointment for the cut three times a day. Anti-inflammatories for the ribs."

The thought of pills made her stomach clench, but she didn't say anything. It wasn't like he was going to check on her taking them. Or make her.

"Then I'd like you to follow up with—do you have a regular doctor yet?"

"No."

"Can you come to the clinic in a few days?"

"Sure."

As he finished his notes, she wondered if Edward had told him anything about her, then chided herself for even thinking of it. She wasn't sure what she was to Edward, but she doubted it was anything he would want to discuss with, let alone take home to his parents.

Carlisle was looking at his notes in a way that told her he wasn't really reading them, more seeking an opportunity to say something else.

"Bella, can I ask you something?"

Definitely something else.

She doubted he'd listen if she said no, so she shrugged.

"Do you want to keep feeling the way you do?"

No. Definitely not. But what would he do with that?

He might help, a little and almost inaudible voice suggested. Maybe.

"No," she choked out, tears watering the word.

Putting the clipboard down, Carlisle sat beside her, and listened, as this one word became others, and Bella poured out the grief she'd so efficiently kept in.

\- 0 -

"Well you'll excuse me if I'm a little hesitant, considering the last visitors we had," BIlly said, eyeing the well dressed lawyer on his porch, fingering his card. Bella recognized the man as the one who'd collected her from the detention centre.

"I can imagine. I have the paperwork here."

"Sure," Billy said, "Can I see it?"

Jason handed it over. Bella could see, even from her vantage point at the kitchen table, that it was printed on heavy paper, Billy's hands fingering awkwardly through it.

This fatherly figure turned his head back to speak to her. "You have any objection to having a lawyer, Bella, for free?"

"Free?" she asked. There was no way he was free. Had Edward—?

"I'm not, technically, free, Mr. Black. My fees are paid for through a charitable foundation. Your case is being sponsored by the Washington State Fraternal Order of Police.

She'd never heard of it before.

"Bella?" Billy asked again.

"Sure," she said cautiously.

Jason nodded. "May I come in? There's some paperwork to sign, and some good news, too."

Settled together over an assortment of coffee for the men, and water for Bella, Jason finished with the basic paperwork.

"The good news is that the March's have dropped all charges."

Bella breathed out her relief, then sucked some of it back, asking, "how?"

Jason looked at her. "I understand some evidence came to light suggesting there'd been some similar circumstances with other foster children, and that there was other criminal activity in the home."

She nodded. No surprise there.

"The possession charges from the bag found here have been dropped. One of the other women verified that it wasn't you that put those pills there. She said someone named...Jim, put them there."

It was Billy's turn to breathe out here.

"But the group home charges remain. The supervisors there are adamant, and have both sworn statements."

"That's because they're running the drugs themselves," Bella said, "and using the boys in the house to do it." She folded her arms, frustrated, but not surprised.

"Are you willing to testify to that?"

Could they touch her here? She wasn't sure, but if—and she thought of Sally, or someone else, sucked into her circumstances. "Yes." It trembled on the way out, but it was loud enough.

"Good," he said. "I'd like to avoid having this go to trial, but you need to mentally prepare for that eventuality. Do you think anyone else would be willing to testify, from there?"

"I doubt it," she said. "They're pretty cowed. I don't blame them. I would be, too, if I was still there."

Billy looked like he wanted to reach out a hand to her, but didn't, keeping them squarely on his lap.

Jason nodded, making more notes.

"From what I can gather, there are few willing witnesses from the prostitution ring."

Bella flinched.

"Sorry," Jason muttered. "It's what it was."

She nodded. It was.

"The police asked if you'd be willing to testify in that case. It's up to you, of course."

Here she closed her eyes, trying not to think about the frightening people she'd encountered there. These words were much more quiet. "If they need me to, yes."

More scratching of the pen.

"Alright," he said, shuffling his papers into a neat pile, and tucking them into a folder. "I think that's it for now. If the police ask to speak with you again, you tell them 'not until I have my lawyer present.' Got it?

Billy answered for her. "Boy do we ever." But he looked at her too, seeking confirmation.

She swallowed, nodding.

"Oh," Jason said, "right. Two more things. One, you can't leave the country—that's standard. Two, this for you, from Mr. Cullen." He placed two boxes on the table in front of her. One was large, flat and rectangular, and the other a third of its size.

"Wait," Billy said, "I thought you were being provided by the—" and his face squished together, searching for the name.

"The Washington State Fraternal Order of Police," Jason smiled. "Yes. Quite a mouthful. Mr. Cullen helped connect the file with them. Their charter doesn't allow for material donations, but he felt that this was important to the success of your case."

He pushed the packages across the table.

Billy looked at both darkly.

"He asked to make sure you knew how to use them." He lifted his eyebrows encouragingly towards Bella.

She opened the small one first.

It was a cellphone. Top of the line, sleek and silver.

"It comes with a prepaid plan, I believe. Do you know how to use one?"

"Yes," Bella said, trying not to smirk.

"Sorry," Jason smiled, "not everyone does. This one might require a bit more instruction."

It was a laptop. This too silver, and brand new.

"In case you want to do any research related to your defense, or for your general use."

"It's too much," she said, shaking her head, sliding it back across the table.

"I can't take it back," he said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" Billy asked, looking disgruntled.

"I can't accept anything from a client, when charitably employed."

"But you gave it to me," Bella said, eyebrows up.

"I can give things, yes, but I can't receive them. Sorry. You can return it to him yourself, though, if you're so inclined."

She sighed in exasperation. "I don't know how to reach him."

"His number, and mine, are in the pre-programmed numbers. In case you require assistance." Then he raised his eyebrows, with a polite smile. "Is there anything else, before I go?"

Both of them shook their heads.

"My offices are in Seattle, but I'm out on the peninsula at least once a month on business if you need to meet."

He stood and shook their hands, and then saw himself out.

Billy scowled at the laptop on the table.

"I'll return it to him," Bella mumbled, seeing this.

"No," he said. "Don't. Sorry. You should have a computer for school. And ours is," he sighed, looking over to the table in the living room, "well, you've seen it."

She had, and Jacob's frustrated mutterings trying to get it to work. Maybe he could use this too.

She wondered if it would smell bad to him as well.

What was up with that?

Then another set of thoughts registered.

"Actually, do you mind if I use your modem?"

"Be my guest," Billy said. "I'm actually off with Harry in a bit. We should get you set up at school, though, if you're still keen?" His face twisted a bit. She'd told him of her intention, but that was before the police had dragged her off.

"No, I will. I'll...go later today. Actually, I need to get some more clothes." Here she grimaced, there were few places in Forks to buy anything clothing like. "Where—?"

"Oh, don't even bother around here. Port Angeles is probably your best bet." He peered outside, "not a bad day for a drive that way. Jake checked your truck while you were….away," he said.

"It's OK, Billy," Bella smiled, in a very small way, "you can say jail. Cop kid, remember?"

He chuckled a little. "You have your dad's sense of humour, for sure."

Once Billy left, Bella gingerly put the laptop down on the small living room table, hooking up the modem to what she hoped was the right port.

She spent a solid hour reading through anything that referenced the Quileute legends. There was little, and most of it referred to one book she couldn't find online. It was listed in stock at a bookstore in Port Angeles, though. Convenient.

If she timed it right, she could get her registration complete at the school before the other students let out for the day, and then get to Port Angeles. BIlly had said it was about an hour there. She could be back around dinner time.

She scribbled a note, leaving it on the kitchen table, and then, new phone in hand, walked out the door and to her truck.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	12. Port Angeles

**Port Angeles**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-10: The first week of school is still kicking my butt. Hopefully, this chapter is more cogent than I feel.

Guest reviewers: Thank you for commenting so thoughtfully - how I wish we could PM!

~ Erin

* * *

Her new phone buzzed and chirped at her just as she was stepping out onto the street, leaving her fumbling for it in her pocket.

"Hello?"

"Just me," Billy's gruff voice buzzed into her ear. She held the phone away from her ear, pressing down the volume button. "You in Port Angeles yet?"

"Yeah," she said, "just got here."

"School sorted?"

"Yes," she breathed out, "I start tomorrow."

"Good. We're gonna get some pizza tonight. Save you some if you're late."

"Thanks Billy." She felt a small relief. She'd worried about getting back in time to make sure there was something decent to eat.

"Have fun. Drive safe, OK?"

"WIll do."

Her heart stuttered a bit, and she wiped her eyes. It struck her, afresh, and startlingly, at times, that he cared.

Being cared for seemed a very precious thing now.

Breathing in deeply, she stepped back against her truck as a small group of men shuffled by her. One of them looked sideways at her movement, shrugging, continuing on.

She found the small department store first, collecting basic clothing for everyday wear, and then, realizing a court appearance might require something more formal, picked out two blouses, a skirt, and a pair of slacks. Solid investments for any interviews she had too. Trying things on was slow. One side of her torso still ached, and she moved carefully, coddling it against shifts.

Her selections found, and found suitable, she went to the till. As she waited, a fine silver chain, and its light amber pendant, caught her eye. The amber matched, with an eerie precision, the colour of Edward's eyes when she'd seen him last.

"This too," she said, pulling it off, feeling a little twinge at the small indulgence.

"Nice choice," the woman remarked. "One of our locals makes those. Real silver, too."

As the cashier went to wrap it, Bella reached out with her hand, "No, I'll wear it, actually."

"Suits you, that colour," she said, handing it over. "Go nice with that shirt, too," she added, nodding at the blue blouse.

"Maybe I'll wear that too, then."

"Big night out on the town?"

Bella chuckled. "Just the bookstore."

"Big night," the woman winked. "For me anyway."

They both laughed, and Bella went to change, feeling more herself, wrapped in clothes of her own choosing.

It took a few tries to find the bookstore, the first a more general one a stranger had directed her to. She'd lingered there, feasting on titles familiar and old, letting her fingers drift over covers of wordy friends she'd once owned. She didn't buy anything, knowing most would be available at the library. She needed to save her money. College was not cheap.

She got better instructions to the bookstore she wanted the second time. It was a trite affair, littered with hung crystals and beaded curtains. Incense burned in the corner. The man at the counter had long, greying hair, and smiled too pacifically at her when she walked in, his eyes glazed.

There was no rush through this place either. She stood for a long time, one hand on the beautifully bound, blank paged journals. Her own, so similarly made, was who knows where. Sorely missed. After several minutes she uprooted her feet, looking for the book of legends. It was easy enough to find. Then her gaze was stopped by another book, on the way to the counter: _The night gone: A survivor's guide to sexual abuse_. It was stacked with others of its kind. A glance towards the proprietor told her he was more attentive than she'd thought, and she snatched her hand back, taking her single purchase to him.

"That all for today?" he asked.

It could be a perfectly innocent question, but her mind supplied so many dark reasons for its existence.

"Yes," she mumbled, paying hurriedly, and leaving the same way.

She was flustered. It was illogical, she knew, but she imagined her past stamped on her forehead for all to see.

Then she realized she'd gone the wrong way.

Stopping, she turned and looked around her. It was just growing dark, the last bits of sunlight making the sky rosy. She was...she didn't know where she was. Her worry had muddled her so, she wasn't precisely sure which way she'd come.

Then she saw the group of men, laughing together, cresting over the small hill above her, one of them lifting his chin in her direction. There were more guffaws.

Her hackles rose, and she chose the first street that offered the most space and lighting, walking down it at a pace that signalled her panic to all around her.

She kept walking, not daring to look back. She could hear their laughter growing closer. Were they running? Was it the buildings channeling the sound?

Checking would only entice them more.

She kept moving, rounding the corner and keeping her head down, trying to remember what Charlie had told her: hit soft parts, use any objects you have. That left her with keys, book, wallet and phone. Pulling the keys out, she threaded the largest between her fingers, her breathing now too fast to let her walk as quickly.

The footsteps of the men were catching up with her.

"Hey sweetheart, wait up," one of them called.

The rest laughed.

She kept walking. Right into the closed space provided by three solid buildings around her. She'd put herself into a dead end.

The jangle of her keys told her that her hands were shaking.

"Hey," one of the voices called. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

She turned around, not recognizing any of the faces there, but fearing all of them.

"Come get a drink with us."

"No thank you," she said, watching them approach. Most of them were sauntering, hands in their pockets. One had his out. He was closest.

She backed away from him. She knew the look on his face.

"Sure I've seen you somewhere," he said. "C'mon, we're goin' for drinks. You should come with us."

He was close enough now that she could smell the ones he'd had already.

"Girl like you shouldn't be wandering around alone in this part of town."

He reached his hand out, grabbing for her forearm, which she snatched away.

He was quick, though, and reached the other one. "Just a drink. Nothing else."

"Let go," she growled, with more ferocity than she felt.

The other men heard the engine before they saw it, jumping out of the way as a car jammed itself into the small space.

The door driver's door opened, and Edward emerged, looking more dark and menacing than all the men there combined. Some of them took a few stumbling steps away, as he moved in their direction.

"Bella," he purred, looking blackly at the man who whose hand was on her. "I was wondering where you were."

She said nothing, stunned by his arrival. Terrified by his appearance.

The man let go abruptly, catching a look at Edward's face.

Bella felt the chill of Edward's hand as he very gently pressed it to her back with a whispered, "let's go."

He held the door for her. As she got in, she saw him scan the space, taking in the faces before him. Like he was memorizing them.

Once inside the car, he murmured, "put your seatbelt on."

She did, shakily.

Then he set the book she hadn't realized she'd dropped onto the console, and backed out of the space.

"Please say something to me."

"What?" she asked.

"Distract me," he barked.

She looked around for something to offer comment on. The lights on the dashboard glowed red, casting their light over his features. Between this, and the yellow of the streetlights, his taut face cast an otherworldly orange back at her.

"You should put your seatbelt on."

He laughed, as if this was ridiculous. "Keep going."

She caught a glance of the vertical speedometer. "And please slow down!"

More laughing. "Keep talking."

"Why?" Her heart was smacking into her chest almost painfully.

"So I don't go back and do something to those men."

"Why would you do that?" He was still driving too quickly. She dug her fingers into the leather of the seat edge, wondering if she was damaging it.

"Do you have any idea what they were thinking? What they were planning?"

"How would you?" she shot back. "Know what they were thinking?"

His laughter was more forced. "Just a turn of phrase."

"How'd you find me?"

"Your phone."

"What?"

"Your phone is trackable."

She wanted to chuck it out the window. He'd tracked her phone? How? And more importantly, why? Glancing around the car, she saw no sign of any equipment beyond the dashboard display. Nothing unusual. Looking sideways at him, she saw that the speedometer needle had receded a few degrees. At least he'd slowed down. The streets he was hurling them down were becoming more crowded.

"Thank you," she said. "For finding me." She was at least glad to be pulled from where she'd been.

Now he was pulling over.

"Where...are we going?" There were parked in front of a restaurant that backed onto a small hotel, if the signage was correct.

And she understood why he'd tracked her.

He was finally collecting on what he'd bought.

"Do you feel cold?" he asked. He was pulling off his jacket.

"No." Her voice shook.

"You're shaking."

He opened the door and came around the other side, opening hers. "Here," he said, his jacket folded over one arm, his hand open to help her out.

She didn't suppose she could hide in his car, so she stood. He slipped the jacket over her shoulders. "Have you eaten?"

"No," she said again, shaking her head. Everything shaking.

"You're cold. Let's go inside." He held his hand out in the direction of the restaurant. The hotel.

"Billy will be expecting me at home." It was the lamest of attempts, but it was all she could muster.

"Of course," Edward said, "but you need to eat something."

She was trying to unearth her thinking mind. It was too well buried in panic and fear to be of any use. She had no doubt what those men had wanted, and now she could only see Edward through the same lens.

The same scene that had played out in Seattle played out in this restaurant: a generous tip, and a private place. Was he arranging a room too?

"Make it two, please," Edward told the waitress, when Bella asked for a cola.

He pushed both towards her when they came.

"I'm worried you're going into shock. Please drink them."

She couldn't stomach her fear though, anymore. "Why are you here? Why am I here, with you?"

"Would you have preferred i left you there, with those men?" he asked, his face tightening, eyebrows lifting.

"No." She shook her head.

"Please drink something," he said more softly.

She did, and he seemed to relax, seeing it. Her mind began following more logical points, now, the sugar lessening the tremble in her hands.

"You said you could hear their thoughts."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, eyes narrowing. His hand flicked towards his pocket, and then back to the table. "Yes."

"You can hear thoughts?" Her own eyes crinkled.

"Everyone's but yours."

Her eyebrows swept her hairline. "Not mine."

"No."

She wondered what was wrong with her that he couldn't, and frowned, staring at the table.

The waitress interrupted this rumination, arriving to ask their order. Edward waved away his own, gesturing to Bella instead. "Um, this please," she said, pointing to the first thing that caught her eye. The woman kept her eyes on Edward the entire time.

His remained on Bella's.

When the waitress left, he went on. "But I'd really like you to tell me—what you're thinking." He sounded earnest.

Or was it anxious?

It was so hard to tell.

"I'm wondering why you can't hear mine, If there's something wrong with me."

He barked out a disbelieving laugh. "I tell you I can read minds, and you wonder what's wrong with you, that I can't hear your thoughts. I told you that you were remarkable."

"Isn't that why you bought me—that night?"

"Oh no," he said, shaking his head, "I wish."

"Why then?"

"What I told you then was true, Bella." This was said with a bitter twist to his mouth.

"But it's not the real reason. Why?" She took another sip of her drink.

His fingers curled into something fist-like on the table. "I wanted you in a way I had no right to."

She looked down, grimly accepting what she'd suspected. She shrugged. "You've more than paid for it. I'm not surprised you've come to collect it. I'm assuming that's why you tracked my phone."

His sharp breath in was audible. "You think—." He paused, hands now flat on the table top. "Please look at me," he asked softly.

She only flicked her gaze up, and then shoved it back down. He'd been staring, his eyes almost trying to snatch hers.

"Do you really think that's why?"

"It's what whores do, Edward." The words were bitter. Clipped.

"You are _not_ that," he said forcefully.

Her gaze was quizzical. It didn't make sense that he refuted this.

"You're wrong, Bella. Yes, I wanted you, but not in that way."

It was the most ironic feeling, that punch in the gut, of rejection, for the thing you didn't realize you wanted. She could barely tell which way was up. She didn't want that. She wanted—God help her, she wanted him.

It was so confusing.

And what _did_ he want then?

"You're the most alluring woman I've ever met, but no, I didn't want you for that."

Now she blushed angrily. "Then _what_?"

"Have you not put this together yourself? Have the Blacks' stories, and reactions to me not been enough?" He looked at the book he'd brought in from the car. "There's a reason I wanted you to go with them and not me."

Bella remembered the open animosity Jacob and Billy had shown Edward, despite his freeing her. The stories Harry had told. And the speed he'd tried to convince her she hadn't seen.

"You're not like anyone I've ever met," she said, her voice low.

"How?" he asked, leaning forward, gaze intent and focused.

"You're always cold. And you never eat, or drink, that I can tell." She bit her lip. "You listen—you really listen." She glanced up at him again. "And apparently you hear people's thoughts." She looked around the restaurant, a quizzical expression on her face.

"You don't believe me."

"It's a lot to…give credit to," she admitted.

"The waitress is planning on giving me her name and number with the bill."

Bella rolled her eyes, the sudden relief of a laughing smile making her ribs ache. "That is hardly reading anyone's mind. You just...affect people."

His face fell a little. "Yes, I do. Hardly something to be proud of."

"Mm," she said noncommittally, considering how he affected her.

"What other conclusions have you drawn?" he pressed.

"Your eyes change colour," she murmured. "And so do your father's."

He gave a tiny nod.

"And you're...fast. You were so far away when I fell. Then you were...there." Then she looked at him, eyes questioning again. "Why did you say you wanted me in a way you had no right to?"

"What do you think I meant?"

She was very close to something. She just couldn't quite tell what, but it unnerved her, as he did. As all men now did. She avoided the question, looking down again, swirling her straw around in her drink. "Well you don't suffer from a lack of confidence."

That grin, the one that spread slowly and not quite evenly, made its slow way across his face, and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

It made her insides feel more liquid than her drink. She had to wait a bit before speaking again, clearing her throat. "So aside from this vague, dark motive of yours that want me to guess, why do you keep turning up to be my personal white knight?"

The crinkle at the eyes disappeared. "I'm not the white knight, Bella."

"What are you, the bad guy?" She snorted. "Think you missed a few key moves if you are."

He didn't respond, looking at her from under half-closed eyelids.

"Why?" she persisted, "Why do you keep turning up to rescue me?"

"Because I want to earn your trust."

She blinked. "You—why?"

"I've never met anyone like you, Bella. And you have no idea what you are. How incredible you are."

She shook her head. He had it all wrong.

"See?" he said, watching. "You most certainly _do_ suffer from a lack of confidence." Then he frowned, "and food. You don't eat enough."

This was so jarring a change, she laughed again, shaking her head.

"Please," he said. "Eat."

Her eyes narrowed, but with a good natured shrewdness. "In exchange for what?"

"You feel you're in a position to negotiate here?" he asked playfully.

"If you want my trust? Yes."

"Alright. Make some guesses, I'll let you know if you're right."

"No questions?"

"No," he shook his head and smiled.

She thought about it for a second. "Deal." Then took a bite of her dinner.

He watched her chew, and think. "Is your necklace new?"

Her hand went to it automatically. Almost protectively. Like she wanted to hide it.

"Yes," she said. "I liked the colour."

"It suits you."

She could feel the colour slide up her cheeks, not used to his compliments. When she went to open her mouth, though, the heat only intensified.

"What?" he asked.

"This is so embarrassing," she mumbled.

He cocked his head to the side, waiting. "I won't laugh."

"Radioactive spider bite?"

His grin stretched the limits of decency, but he didn't, as promised, actually laugh. "Not by a long shot."

She went to speak again, but he pointed to her plate, and she chewed too quickly through another bite.

"Insane genetic mutation?"

He shook his head.

The guesses went on, and the food on her plate diminished, the conversation becoming more general.

"Watch," he mouthed to her, when the waitress brought the bill.

Sure enough, Bella could see her name and number slipped under it as she handed it to him.

"I can get it," Bella said, fishing for her wallet.

"But it was my idea, and I'd like to buy you dinner," he said. "After all, you think I'm the white knight." His grin flared wide again.

Outside the restaurant, Bella called Billy to let him know she'd be starting home soon, and that she wouldn't need dinner.

She didn't mention who she was with.

As she hung up, she looked at the phone. Had he really tracked her with it? That sounded complex—difficult, even for someone so well resourced. She doubted this aspect of his story, but glancing at him, didn't say anything.

He was her own personal enigma, seasoned equally with beauty and fear.

He'd never demanded anything of her, but she was terrified he would. These anxieties were groundless, and receded minutely, each time she saw him. Other feelings she'd never felt were swimming beneath them, looking for eddys and spouts to escape through.

So confusing.

"Where's your car?" Edward asked, as they approached his.

"Oh, I can probably walk from here," she said. "It's just a few blocks that way."

"Then I'll walk you."

When they arrived at her truck, he looked at her in disbelief. "This, is your vehicle?"

"Yes," she said, feeling a little defensive. "My dad bought it for me."

Edward clamped his lips shut, obviously silencing more explicit, and uncharitable descriptions. "Why don't I go with you?" he suggested.

"Um, but what about your car?" she asked.

"Easily retrieved."

"But that means—"

"I'd rather see you safely home."

"I'll be fine, really—"

"You've had a shock, Bella. Would you...humour me?" he asked. "Please?"

He leaned forward, just slightly, letting the breath of these words be carried over her face by the waft of the night air.

It was stunning. Literally. Any reason for saying no melted away.

"It's...just...it's an inconvenience. For you," she said, not sure why he would want to go with her. Why it wasn't a bad idea.

"Perhaps you'd let me drive?" he suggested, closing the gap between them by marginal inch.

"Um, sure?"

Inside the cab, her protective instincts flared. "Be gentle. She's old."

"I'll be a perfect gentleman with your truck." His next smile left her wordless.

He was true to his word, listening to its strain when they reached the highway, settling into a careful speed.

For the first time, he talked about his family, and she learned that he was one of five children, all grown, most of them home from university. All adopted.

"And yet you and your adoptive father have the same eye colour," she observed, looking sideways at him.

Some ten minutes west of Forks, he pulled over. "Think you can get the rest of the way yourself?"

"You're getting out here?" she asked increduosly, looking at the dark stretch of road.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because this is where Quileute land begins."

She remembered the derisive comments Paul had made about the Cullens.

"I'm sure they'll understand, Edward—"

"No," he said firmly. "One of my siblings will be happy to come get me. Trust me. I'll be fine. But you should go home." He'd opened the door, his nose up, as if he was smelling for something. "Go straight home," he said, looking around as he saw her to the driver's side.

"No plans to go anywhere else," she sighed. "I have school tomorrow."

He caught her eye, a definite smirk on his face. "Can't say I envy you that."

"High school?" she snorted. "No. I imagine not."

"You don't like school?"

"I like learning, just...not school."

"Well, perhaps I can lessen its suffering then. Meet me for lunch?"

"At school?"

"I'll bring lunch. How's that?"

After a moment, she said, "OK. Where?"

"In the parking lot." Then he grinned, the moonlight making his teeth shine, "by your truck. But go home now. I'll see you then."

"Night," she called, watching the dark dim his form as he strode towards the tree line.

A few minutes later, when she searched her rearview mirror for his form, he was gone.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight.


	13. Wolves

**Wolves**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-12: Much gratitude for everyone's responses to this story so far. Guest reviewers: Some of the comments you folks leave are downright insightful and helpful. Would love to chat more - and we could if you had accounts!

Now I'm going to go bury my head in my students' papers.

~ Erin (AT FlamingMapleWrites on FB)

* * *

"It isn't me you need to be watching for," Edward growled, confronting the thoughts that had waited for him in the woods.

 _What were you doing with her?_ One particularly angry mind growled.

"Keeping her safe," Edward replied levelly. Recognizing the distinct tenor of the thoughts, he added, "unlike you."

There was an audible growl now.

 _And what's your interest in her?_ The next mind posed. Sam's.

"None of your business," he growled back.

 _It's entirely our business, Cullen,_ Sam thought at him. _She's one of ours_. The memories that flickered showed Edward just how much.

He raised his eyebrows. "I have no interest in violating the treaty."

 _That wasn't what I asked_ , Sam retorted.

"If you can't be bothered to keep her from human harm, then don't question those who do."

Jacob's mind snorted, but there was a visceral line of jealous thinking that went along with this. Sam was more pragmatic, his sphere of concern beyond the one Bella had found herself so recently ensnared in.

Edward had no interest in dignifying Jacob's juvenile pettiness. He directed his comments to Sam, who could be relied upon to turn to business, even if he was surly about it. "You've scented them, yes?"

 _Friends of yours?_ Sam asked, the emphasis on friends distinctly snide.

"No. We'll warn them off if we can, but you should careful."

 _Then stop wasting our time, hovering at the line!_ Jacob barked.

Sam ordered him to be quiet, and compliance came with a disgruntled whine. _We'll keep our own safe, Cullen._ His mind thought of Bella, and what he imagined was Edward's real interest in her.

Edward was glad that Sam couldn't read his mind. His gruesome and grisly speculation wasn't so far from the truth. That monster still screamed for her, but he heard it less.

"She can make her own choices," Edward said. "I mean her no harm."

 _And your kind can be counted on for so much good_ , Sam thought sarcastically.

Edward knew the burden their presence placed on them. The particular one Sam carried.

He ignored the taunt. "If you object to the protection I offer the girl, then provide it yourself." He knew they couldn't. Was secretly glad he could hoard those opportunities himself.

They knew they couldn't either, and Jacob's frustration bubbled under Sam's ordered gag.

"Do your jobs, and leave us in peace to do what good we can," Edward finished with.

There was a vague, but disgruntled acknowledgement.

Edward nodded, knowing it seen, and turned to make his reluctant way home.

When Alice had paused, her sudden thoughts flickering with Bella's face, he hadn't even waited to hear her words, simply grabbing his keys up and bolting for the garage. They'd spoken on the phone as he drove, she reassuring him he'd make it in time, but then growing anxious with what else she saw.

It was true, that he could track Bella's phone. If he'd had the right equipment. She hadn't questioned the means of his finding her though, at least not openly.

So many layers to her.

Alice had seen her at the bookstore, and so he, like Bella, had found first one, then the other, following the breadcrumbs of her smell over the covers of novels and texts, and then the streets.

On impulse, he'd bought the titles she'd touched.

They were in the trunk of his car. Sequestered offerings he longed to make to her at the right time. When she knew.

Did she know?

It was so frustrating, the silence of her mind.

Alice might know. But she might not tell him, either.

They were on the most strained of terms. As he was with Rose. _Risking us again?_ She hissed silently, hearing him arrive.

Inside, the family gathering was impossible to avoid.

"Let's discuss this together," Carlisle called.

"Tracking her cell phone, Edward?" Rose sneered. "How plausible."

Carlisle ignored the jibe. He was preoccupied with worry for Edward, the family, and Bella.

Edward's feelings for Bella were an open secret: known, but not yet discussed. Rose was plainly done with the pretense.

There had been near revolt when he'd sent Bella back to Forks. Too close to home.

And just out of their reach.

It'd driven Rose nuts.

He'd smiled at that. It was a small measure against the weight of his loss, not himself being able to see Bella at will.

Carlisle had made rare use of his authority, quelling the arguments that had erupted.

"We do owe her, Rose," he'd said softly. "As much as it might not be her life, we owe her Charlie's. We're responsible." He hadn't lowered his physical gaze, but his mental one was thick with guilt. "Our warning to the nomads was inadequate. We could have spared her...much."

Just how much, he didn't say. The obscuring of his thoughts was well practised, but not enough to spare Edward all the things he'd seen with Bella.

Rose remained resentful and surly. She didn't want to leave. Not yet. They had, at best, a few more years here, if people didn't start asking questions.

If.

Seated around the dining table, Edward sat with folded arms. He expected a verbal assault, and a worse one, mentally.

Alice showed him her persistent vision, and he gritted his teeth. Then she showed him the one he tolerated better: of Bella, and Alice, together—human, and vampire, as friends. She actively resented Edward's refusal to introduce them.

"How you feel for Bella is no secret, Edward. I wish we could simply be happy for you finding your mate, because clearly, she is that." He looked around the table, observing the mixed reactions there. "But we all face the...complexity this presents."

"That you've made worse," Rose muttered.

"She's safe," Edward growled.

"Where we can't get to her if she does decide to blab," Rose hissed, "let alone see what's coming."

"Does she know yet?" Carlisle asked Edward. "Beyond what she's suspected?"

"She's close, but I'm not sure."

Carlisle nodded. "She's safe to speak on the reserve." He didn't need to say where she wasn't safe to talk. HIs inner unease was more visible to Edward now.

"No," he said, "I haven't told her how I feel."

Rose huffed openly in frustration.

"It cements our safety, Edward, the sooner that mutual bond is made."

He didn't need to be told this.

 _And it won't help if you accidently kill her,_ Rose snorted silently.

Carlisle thoughts were becoming more grim. "She's...been through a great deal."

Around the table, the other family members' thoughts rippled uncomfortably at this understatement.

"I'm concerned she's not stable," Carlisle concluded aloud. "If you're sure of your course, Edward, then we need to do everything we can towards it. That means helping her." Here he looked at Rose.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

Carlisle's voice was very soft. "I'd think you'd be uniquely qualified to offer her some assistance."

Rose hissed in a breath, standing, and walking away. If she'd been human, her face would have been a blisteringly angry red.

Emmett winced, looking at Carlisle, and then letting his eyes follow Rose's path away from the table.

She'd been insulted by the comparison.

"Perhaps help from other quarters," Esme suggested to her husband. "Human ones might be a place to start."

Carlisle was remembering the last, fractured conversation he'd had with Bella.

Edward was simultaneously trying not to listen, and yet found himself pulled by the powerful compulsion to absorb every piece of it.

She'd cracked open in tears, blurting out some of what haunted her still, then just as quickly sealed it all up, refusing to say more. Refusing help.

"She's resilient," Carlisle concluded. "But there's a limit to that for everyone. Help would be better sooner."

Edward set his mind to all the possible ways he could squire her to such assistance, heartened by Alice's tracing of each decision, illuminating these spidery strands with the whole of her gift.

"Thank you," he whispered.

 _You're welcome. Maybe. But first, you need to introduce us._

He smiled at her persistence. "Soon," he promised her. "Soon."

But first, he would help Bella.

\- 0 -

She hadn't realized she'd been screaming until the sound stopped.

There'd been a rattling, and then a sudden splintering when the door had smashed open. Jacob was standing at the edge of her bed, face taut and stricken, the tell-tale clink of a belt-buckle in his hands, now at the waist of his shorts. "Bella?" he asked.

She needed no other warning.

She was up and gone, the speed of her steps a testament to the fear that owned her back, her breathing, and the rigidity of her jaw.

Her bare feet pounded into the soft ground, meeting small twigs and stones, but mostly wanting the air between her strides and the dark wetness. Pivoting, she turned to curve around the house and head for the woods, where she'd have a chance to hide.

Jacob's more efficient breathing and gait were closing in behind her.

There was a frightened sob that told her the panic was gaining traction.

Just past the treeline, Jacob reached her, his long arms a tight and constraining circle.

She fought him, shrieking and screaming, futile kicks not reaching anything.

Then low and menacing growls reached her, bubbling up from where her feet finally rested on the ground. They made her bones vibrate.

She stopped fighting, letting her eyes sweep up with the sound, following the trajectory of giant paws, planted impossibly deep in the needly carpet of the forest floor. These were attached to legs—several sets—and then to wolfy bodies whose size was beyond what reality allowed.

Consciousness deserted her, and the last thing she felt were Jacob's tightening limbs against her loosening form.

When she woke up, she was on the Black's small couch. Jacob was sitting in the chair opposite, his leg jiggling with nerves, eyebrows flexed deep in worry.

She gasped. "Wolves—there are—"

"Wolves. Yes."

She hadn't expected to have this confirmed.

She thought of the book she'd been reading before bed.

"I thought someone was hurting you, Bella. That's why I came in to check." He sounded embarrassed. Like he'd made a mistake. "You scream really loud when you have nightmares. Apparently."

She nodded, not particularly caring about how loud she screamed, her mind preoccupied with what she'd seen. "Why are there giant wolves in the forest?"

"Why did you run when I came in?"

"You had a belt, Jacob." Her voice quavered. Her glance flicked towards it, now done up. Still. She sat up, getting ready, if she needed to.

"I was just doing up my shorts, Bella."

"Why were they off?"

He blushed.

It made him look very young.

"I don't always sleep with clothes."

"Oh," she said, making her shoulders relax a bit. Her logical mind clambered over her primal one. He thought she'd been in trouble, that someone was hurting her. He'd come to help her. Nothing more. She had been screaming, she knew. There was nothing untoward here.

Just the giant wolves.

"Are the wolves still there?" She looked towards the forest. "My God, they're huge—they—"

"Protect us," Jacob said, lips now devoid of any smile, or embarrassment. "It's good that they're here."

Bella stared, then swallowed, thinking of the contents of the book. Of Edward. Of his father. Jacob had seen the wolves too. She hadn't been imagining things. And he said they protected them...from…

"What do they protect us from?"

"The cold ones," he answered, without hesitation.

The cold ones.

Like Edward.

Her breathing sped up again, and her eyebrows slid into a v-shape. "The Cullens—"

"Are not welcome here." It was a low growl from his throat.

"Are they—are they the cold ones?"

Silence. Jacob's eyes did not travel from her face. After a moment, he said, "it's late. We have school tomorrow. Should get back to sleep." Then he frowned, legs shifting slightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"OK." Her jaw was still tight. They were alone, as far as she could tell. She wasn't sure where Billy was.

"Did you think I was going to hurt you? When I came in?"

There was enough of her thinking self present to know he meant well, but she still couldn't make herself nod.

"I would never hurt you, Bella."

He was a man. He had the means to. She'd had a man's ressurances before.

And the most profound of disappointments too.

"OK," he said, seeing her silence persist. "I'll, um, fix your door tomorrow. My room locks. Do you want to sleep there?"

She nodded. Eagerly.

Billy had warned her he'd be washing bedding that day. She'd come home to a neatly made bed, the corners folded and tucked. That familiar lump in the throat had presented itself at the sight of Billy's care. Jacob's bed was still in this pristine state.

Not slept in.

What had he been doing?

She let herself speculate as to the reasons, but then stopped, trying to not exactly calm her body, but more succumb to the exhaustion panic always seemed to carry with it. The remainder of her night's sleep was fitful, and full of confused horrors she could not make coalesce into sense.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	14. Truths

**Truths**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-15: It's the weekend: amen. It was enlightening for me to hear thoughts on a canon revisit. Not sure how much more of that there'll be, but glad it tickled so many of you. I think this chapter might satisfy too.

~ Erin

AT FlamingMapleWrites on FB

* * *

In the morning, Billy was up and dressed, efficiently moving himself around the kitchen. "What do you like for a sandwich?" he called to Bella.

"Oh, um...actually, I'm meeting someone for lunch. Thank you though." She had trouble getting the last words out. They'd gotten stuck behind that damn lump in her throat again.

"Really?" Billy asked, "That's fast—oh, your friend Sally?"

"No."

The way she said it must have signalled some uncertainty, because he looked sharply at her. Then his face softened. "Glad you're making friends," he said softly, not pressing for a name.

She was just as glad not to have to give an answer.

The drive was soothing, the long ribbon of the road sweeping largely between forest and farm, the spectrum of greens finally fading to the more human browns and greys of town.

"You will not break your arm, you will not break your arm, you will not break your arm," she muttered to herself, before getting out of the truck.

This time she made it all the way to the school office.

"Good to see you again, Bella," a man's voice called.

She looked up at an unfamiliar face. "Um, hi."

"We met your first day here," he said, "I'm principal Green."

"Oh, right. Thank you, for—um—"

"You're welcome," he said, smiling softly. "I hope today treats you better."

"Me too," she sighed.

"Mrs. Cope will get you all settled with your schedule, alright?"

With a curt, but not unfriendly nod, he walked away, leaving her to the openly sympathetic face of one Mrs. Cope.

Oh God, thought Bella, watching the feeling ooze out of the woman's pores as she spoke.

"So sorry about your father, honey—"

Bella clamped her jaw shut and nodded, willing that now painful clod in her throat to stop anything more dangerous from erupting.

The office door jangled. Mrs. Cope looked up. "Oh, Mike. Maybe you can show our new student around?"

Turning back, Bella saw a tall boy, close to her own in age, blonde-haired, and smiling, waving at her. Then, like all men seemed wont to do, his hand slipped to his belt, which he nudged with an absent-minded finger.

Bella's face twitched. "I'm sure I can find my way—"

"Oh no, you need someone to show you things your first day. Mike's on the student council here. Don't worry, you'll be in good hands."

Bella had no interest in being in any man's hands, but this pairing seemed unavoidable, unless she wanted to be exceptionally rude.

She seriously debated being exceptionally rude.

Mike picked absentmindedly at a pimple on his cheek.

"Sure," she mumbled.

They walked out together, Bella skirting the near brush of his hand at the door.

"You got your schedule there?"

She handed it over wordlessly.

"Oh cool, we're in some of the same classes." He smiled at her.

She gave the most watery imitation in return.

"Hey, stop hogging the new girl!" another voice called.

"Hi Jess," Mike called back, grinning wider. "This is Bella."

"Hi, I'm Jessica Stanley."

"Hi," Bella said shyly.

Peering over at the schedule in Bella's hand, she started talking excitedly about the classes they had in common, and all the things Bella should watch out for with each teacher.

By the time they reached the first classroom, Bella was exhausted by Jessica's prattle.

The English teacher didn't make her introduce herself, but the next one did, and she stuttered through it, taking her seat with relief.

By lunch, she was ready to bolt for the parking lot, the press of so many bodies making her anxious. She imagined hands and bids at every corner. She hadn't even looked for Sally yet. Couldn't stand the idea of being inside a moment longer.

"Come meet everyone," Jessica said, yanking her head in the direction of the cafeteria.

"I'm actually meeting someone for lunch."

"Really?" she asked, a presuming eyebrow up. "Who?"

"Just a friend," Bella evaded. "See you later." Stuffing her books in her locker, Bella held onto her bag, feeling a pang for her journal, and the other things that'd been left in another locker, not so long ago.

Edward was leaning against her truck, his grin wide when he saw her.

He had a basket under one arm.

"Morning," he said, as she got closer. "You came."

She flicked her eyes up to meet his, almost a foot up. "Of course. You thought I wouldn't?"

"There are no guarantees in life," he said, a sly grin curling up a corner of his mouth.

"So um, where to?" Bella asked.

"The field, I was thinking," Edward said, looking in its direction. "You aren't allowed to leave campus during the day, without permission."

"Really?" Bella asked.

"Really. And somehow, I doubt it would be forthcoming, with me, anyway, from Billy."

Indeed, she thought, paling at the remembrance of the wolves.

They started walking towards their location slowly, and he glanced over at her. "You sleep OK?"

"Not really, no. But that's not unusual."

"Mm," he said. It sounded suspiciously informed.

"How 'bout you?" she asked suddenly, turning and narrowing her eyes towards him. His eyes were lighter again, the smudges under them not so purple.

"Oh, not much of a sleeper myself." There was something in the way he said it that suggested a smirk.

"Or an eater." She observed, an eyebrow up.

"No," he said, returning the expression.

They were staring at each other, a mutual dare in each face.

Bella broke it. "Here?" she asked, not quite ready for the conversation she knew was waiting. A revelation she hadn't quite put words to. Yet.

"Looks good to me." They were at the edge of the treeline, a few scattered maples providing some privacy from the building's windows. Not enough to completely obscure them, but enough to let her feel they were screened from the most overt prying.

A compactly folded blanket sat over the basket. Edward unfolded with an easy snap of his wrist, settling it down on the grass.

"Very organized," Bella commented.

Edward dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Sitting, Bella pulled out what passed as her journal: a simple coil-ring notebook, full of lined paper. As Edward unpacked the rest of his basket, she sketched out the lines of their place, and then him, a set of rapid small lines catching the moment's essence.

"You draw," he said, his voice full of admiration. Appreciation.

"Not well," she mumbled.

He glanced over. "Well enough. The quality of the paper doesn't match your skill though," he added, reaching over to finger it.

"Yeah," she agreed, "didn't get a chance to get my old one in Seattle."

"Why?"

She hadn't told him about the group home. Or the one before that, so she did, tracing out these parts of her life, as she did her sketches—with the barest lines.

He listened, nodding, accepting what she said with an undemanding silence.

"So your things are still there?"

"Maybe," she shrugged.

"You haven't asked after them?"

"No." The thought of connecting with those people again was frightening.

Again, a comfortable acceptance.

"How're your classes so far?"

"Oh fine," she shrugged.

"Who've you met today?"

"Would you know any of them?" she asked, genuinely curious. If he was in medical school, surely he was too many years removed.

"I graduated three years ago, so I'll know a few."

"Three years ago? But—"

"Took a lot of summer session courses, and challenged most of the first year material."

Her eyes widened. "Wow," she muttered.

"So?" he asked. "Who?"

"Um, Mike…"

"Newton?" he suggested.

"Yes, and Jessica...Stanley."

"Mm," he said, the sound a careful, and obvious noncommitment. Then he nodded at the small set of items he'd put out. "Please, help yourself."

"This looks amazing," she said. "You really are a renaissance man." This came with a more confident grin.

"If it pleases you, if pleases me."

A blush flared up her cheeks at what felt like an ostentatious compliment, which she hid her discomfort in by looking down, letting her hair be a curtain between them as she nibbled on one of the succulent grapes.

"How's _Lady Susan_?" he asked, laying down on his side, resting his head on his hand.

She was seated, cross legged, trying not to stare. If she passed him a stem of grapes, he'd look like Bacchus, and she, a mindless, fawning nymph.

"Oh, I haven't been able to finish it. The police took it—evidence." This too was coloured with a blush, but a more embarrassed one, and a shrug.

"That is most unfortunate. But I just happened to be at a few bookstores yesterday." From the bottom of the basket, he produced a book, similar to the one he'd initially bought her.

It was the same one she'd looked at the evening prior.

"You—"

"Want to finish it, yes?" He put it down on the blanket beside her.

"Yes." She looked at him, eyes full of questions.

"You haven't made any other guesses today," he commented, picking a stray piece of clover, twirling it between his fingers, not making eye contact.

She pulled in a breath, and then put the words out that she'd herded together. "I don't think I need to guess."

"Oh?"

"You're a cold one." These straddled the border of whisper and air.

He didn't say anything for a moment, putting the stem between his fingers down on the grass. "It's not an inaccurate term, but it dances around what I am."

His movements seemed to have shifted, subtly, somehow, becoming even more careful. Like he was afraid of frightening her with them. He was watching her this way, too.

"Are you afraid of what I am?"

"No," she said, without hesitation. "Not of what you are." She wondered if he would notice the distinction.

"But you're afraid of me."

Her smile, if it could be called that, was bitter. "Let's just say the last few months haven't taught me to trust most people."

He winced.

"That's not your fault, Edward."

His lips twisted over something, but he shut them again.

"What do you call yourself, if not a cold one?"

When he didn't answer, she brought her eyes up to his, her fingers still toying with a stray thread on the blanket. She dropped her gaze again, fixed on the small bit of fibre. It was red, a nick in the tartan weave. Wool. She let go of it with a guilty squirm, realizing she was damaging the blanket. His fingers picked it up in her place.

"What do you think?" he asked, now teasing this ruby wick of to stand.

It was either ridiculous, or real, and standing on the precipice of understanding, she didn't so much jump, as let go of her disbelief.

It was like falling, the feeling in her stomach telling her she was groundless. Tumbling in a descent like no other.

"Vampire." Her heart thudded in her ears. "You're a vampire."

Then she dared to look at his face.

She gasped.

All the things that marked him as human were gone: his posture, the features of his perfect face.

He crouched, teeth bared, hands curled and ready to clutch—a predator in every way..

He was stunning.

Beautiful.

And then he was gone.

She blinked. "Edward?"

After a moment, she heard him. "Here," he called, his form dimly visible amidst the trees.

She stood, not quite so confident in her balance, but more confident in her understanding of what had happened. He could move at speeds that were beyond her.

"Sorry," he said. "Please stay where you are."

Heeding this request seemed wise.

Then, in the space of a blink, he was there again, some few inches from her.

Her stomach had stopped falling, but now her head was taking its turn. Just like it had the night before, her body had better sense than her mind, and sought the protection of severing the one's control over the other.

This time, it was Edward's concerned face that hovered, but closer than Jacob's had been.

"Just stay put," he said. She felt his hand on her arm again—just a touch, and then gone.

She wished he'd put it back.

Her feet were resting on something hard—the basket, if the wickery creak was anything to go by.

These seconds of thinking and realizing were enough for her, to be prone in. She moved her feet, and turning to her side, went to sit up.

Then another wave of dizziness hit her, and she laid back down.

"Are you still dizzy?"

She closed her eyes, and nodded.

"Do you faint often?"

"Just yesterday and today," she murmured, wanting her head to stop spinning.

"Can you try to eat something?"

Risking the opening of her eyelids, she blinked, and the world stayed still. The plate of food was sitting in front of her—largely untouched. She soldiered through more grapes, and the water he presented.

"How're you ribs?" he asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Your ribs. Are they still sore?"

"How do you know about that?" The fear, that his father had discussed her information with him, made her stomach turn.

"You were favouring that side, yesterday."

How could he possibly—?

"How could you know that?" Her curiosity sharpened her focus, the dizziness lessening..

He frowned a bit. "You're not sleeping well, either."

"OK," she said, moving to sit up more. "How are getting this? Because I know your dad is my doctor, but—"

"Of course it's not that," he said, shaking his head. "Carlisle would never—"

"You call your dad by his first name?"

He was kneeling, while she was almost fully sat up, supported by her hand. He reached over, taking her other hand, seeing her up and stable before he let go.

"Technically, he's not my father."

"Then why do you call him that?"

But Edward was looking at her with narrowing eyes. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine," she shrugged.

"But you're not," he murmured.

How he could know that, she had no idea.

"Bella, I know you have questions, but I think you need to see a doctor."

"I'm fine, I'm just tired, I—"

"No doctor, no questions."

She stared, her eyes widening with growing anger.

But she really wanted answers.

"Fine."

"Good," he said, and then, without asking, slipped his arm around her, helping her up, using the other to quickly gather the other things.

"I should sign out at the office," she said, as they approached the parking lot.

"No need," he said, "I will call. Mrs. Cope will not mind."

Bella didn't press this point. She had no interest in securing more of the woman's oozing sympathy.

For the second time in several days, she found herself at the hospital with Edward, this time walking into the office of one Dr. Carlisle Cullen.

He looked up at their arrival, but the expression on his face didn't register quite the right amount of surprise.

Either he knew, or Edward had warned him.

A paranoid wondering slithered up her back. Had he? Or, had he done something to make sure she would need to see a doctor? She thought of the drink David had given her.

Her face, the open register for all of her feelings, must've paled at this misshapen speculation.

"Not feeling well?" Carlisle asked, watching her.

Edward murmured what had happened, mentioning the night before, too.

"I was actually going to call you today about your results," Carlisle said, coming to sit beside her. He looked up at Edward, dismissal clear there.

Bella caught Edward's look, him searching for an answer from her.

She thought of the tests Carlisle had run, and nodded her farewell. Still wondering. Still trying to sort out logic from paranoia.

"Are you still feeling lightheaded?" Carlisle asked.

She shook her head, hearing the door click behind her. She was suddenly very aware that they were alone together, no nurse or other staff nearby. Even so, she refused to give way to her irrational fears, or to ask him to call Edward back.

"Your blood tests all came back negative," he started.

She could actually feel the tension leaving her shoulders.

"I imagine that's a relief." He was sitting, his forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped together, eyes holding her gaze, but gently.

"It is."

"You don't look very relieved."

She swallowed.

His son—no, not his son. Someone who called him a father, sort of, had just told her he was a vampire. There were giant wolves running around the woods where she lived.

That didn't bother her much.

No.

But she found herself panicking in the most unthreatening of circumstances. Having a door closed. Hearing a belt buckle. Having someone come too close.

Imagining someone drugging her, whenever they offered her food.

"I'm—," she looked around, like the words she needed would appear. "I think I'm losing my mind."

"And what makes you think that?"

She sort of half-laughed, half-sobbed, "I think people are going to hurt me. People who've done nothing but help me. I'm afraid _you're_ going to hurt me." The last words shook with their utterance, and she had to clench her jaw, and force herself not to shrink away in the chair.

Carlisle breathed out. "That's completely normal, Bella, given what you've gone through."

Normal. This was so far from normal, she didn't even know where she'd look to find it.

"How long have you been feeling this way?"

"Since I got back."

He nodded, as if expecting this. "You're safe, Bella, even if you don't feel that way. Your body, your mind—they kept you from feeling those things, until it was actually safe to do so."

It made a strange sort of sense, and she huffed out more air.

"There's a name for it," Carlisle went on.

She looked up, waiting.

"PTSD."

She frowned. "I thought that was just veterans."

He shook his head. "No. It can happen to anyone."

"How do I stop...this?" she asked, curling her hands over, gesturing to herself.

He seemed relieved now too, the tautness in his legs gone.

"Talking to someone is a good start. We have counsellors here. Everything is confidential," he added, seeing her face crease.

She was biting her lip. When he held out a tissue, she coudn't understand why. Then she tasted the coppery salt on her tongue.

It was bleeding.

She took the tissue, and pressed it there.

"But you need to take care of yourself, too," he said. He went on to ask more detailed questions, and within the hour, had an xray, and several other checks done.

Sitting back down again in his office, he started with the results. "The good news is that there are some fairly straightforward things to do that can help you. The two most important ones are eating and sleeping regularly."

There was a wan smile that played out on her face. "Those are hard to do right now."

"I can imagine," Carlisle said sympathetically. "I can prescribe something—"

"No." She said this quickly. The thought of pills made her even more uneasy.

"Alright," Carlisle said carefully. "You also have a hairline fracture in one of your ribs, which is making breathing painful—which I think is what is related to the fainting. I'd like you to manage that pain, so you're breathing deeply."

She knew what 'managing pain' meant. "I really don't want pills."

"Can you tell me why?"

She could almost feel Mac's hand over her mouth, and stood up, pacing in the small space. "I was made to take them."

"I see." He pushed his eyebrows together. "Cold packs are good on the ribs, but you'll need to do it regularly. On the hour, if you can. And," he said softly, "I'll write you a note for physed. No strenuous activity for at least six weeks."

And there's the silver lining, Bella thought: no physed. She'd been glad to miss it today. She sat down again. "Thank you," she said, meaning it, making herself really look at him.

"You're very welcome, Bella," he smiled. "The best thanks will be seeing you better."

It was almost too personal, to hear it, and she shifted in her seat, not sure what to do with this clear expression of care.

"I suspect Edward is waiting on you. Would you like me to get him?"

She nodded, turning to watch him slip behind her to open the door.

Edward's voice reached her in all its beautiful velvetiness. "Bella?"

"Hi," she said, standing up, "um, thanks for waiting." She looked at her watch. It'd almost been an hour. "I've taken up almost your entire afternoon."

He shook his head, dismissing this. Then, nodding to Carlisle, he held out his hand towards the door.

"Wait," Carlisle murmured, writing something down. "In case you change your mind." Two slips of paper sat between his fingers. Bella hesitated before pinching them between her own, and then crushing them into her pocket.

She and Edward walked away from the office silently, her mind full of equally silent questions. If he could read minds, had he heard Carlisle's thoughts? Did she need to tell him what had transpired? Would he want to know?

Why did he want to earn her trust?

Why did she want to trust him? Because she realized, as she walked beside him, that a very great part of her wanted to trust him. Very much.

She glanced sideways and up at Edward, now walking placidly beside her. He caught her eye, and let a smile curl the subtleness of his lips, and then his eyes. The enchantment of watching this made her miss the small linoleum lip in the floor. His hand snatched at hers, bracing her against a sure fall. Steadied, his fingers relaxed their grip, but she tightened hers, not wanting the contact gone.

Neither said anything as they walked out of the hospital, hand in hand.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


	15. Hands

**Hands**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-18: A couple of you have suggested that Rose would be a good person to help Bella. Not in this story. Rose was utterly offended when it was suggested a few chapters back.

Many of you are faithful commenters: thank you for leaving your thoughts. If you haven't so far, I would love to hear from you - even if it is just a smiley face.

~ Erin

AT FlamingMapleWrites on FB

* * *

They'd taken his car to the hospital. When she'd pointed out, in the school lot, that her truck was closer, he'd snorted, and said, "yes, but the difference in time to mine will be made up for by its ability to actually reach the speed limit."

Now they were sitting in his car again, and having held hands to walk to it, he was counting every heartbeat, listening to her uncertain breathing. She could be excited, or nervous.

Or too terrified to move.

He followed the point of her gaze. She was staring out at the parking lot. Did humans focus on things, or just let their eyes regard without it? Was that what she was doing? Not focusing, but thinking?

Her hand twitched in her lap.

Fear? Or an aborted attempt to reach for his hand again?

She'd definitely wanted to take hold his hand, in spite of its unrelenting coldness. Hers had been so soft. Warm. He'd loved the way her fingers had made a hot coil around his, the thrum of her pulse fluttering there. He'd struggled to be content with only that, not to press it to his mouth, to kiss her skin. To know what it tasted like—

He stopped his thoughts at that dangerous junction, letting air leave his mouth, swallowing the venom that pooled hopefully.

"Thank you," he made himself say. "For seeing a doctor."

Her eyebrows did a quick push up. "Handy to be related to one, I imagine. Or, not...technically related—what—how do you—?" Her hands hovered in their air, and then returned to her lap, the many questions in them evident.

"I promised you answers, but perhaps we can go somewhere else to talk?" His eyes took in the parking lot, not busy, but busy enough to not be private.

"Sure, where?"

"There's a park not far from here." He lifted his chin in its direction.

She nodded, hands now nestled in her lap again. He wondered what would happen if he reached over and took one of them.

He didn't.

Like all drives in Forks, this one was short—just a few minutes away. He drove slowly, wanting to think, wanting to savour her closeness. Her smell was already embedded in the thread of his car's upholstery, but only as a suggestion. He wanted her heady freesia and lilac to be what overrode all the other scents. The longer she stayed here, the more likely that would be. A small piece of her he could always have.

Ridiculous, he thought. But he kept his speed to circumspect levels. Prolonging their neat proximity.

He didn't move too quickly when he got out, but fast enough to reach her door before she could open it herself. It bothered him that these small courtesies had been so grossly abandoned by the occupants of modern culture. Such little things let love blossom into all moments, when now, the populace searched for larger, grander—and ultimately, empty—gestures. Love was a fire: built first with sparks and spare fuel, layered with chosen kindnesses, fed by deep commitments.

He followed her lead, sitting beside her on the bench she selected. No one else was at the park, and the distant playground fixtures were still, waiting for occupants. They had maybe an hour before there would be human company. Then he would need to return her to school, and her truck. They would be alone there too, by that time.

Counting the minutes spoiled the hoarding of them, though, and he released his grip on the expenditure of their time.

"What do you want to know?"

She tilted her head to look at him. "How old are you?"

Interesting. "My license says I'm twenty."

She rolled her eyes. "How old are you, really?"

He smirked. "I'm seventeen, Bella. Your age."

Her breath went in and out quickly. Was that exasperation?

"How long have you been seventeen?"

Yes, exasperation, he thought.

"A long time."

Now she set her jaw in a hard line. The friction of her molars was audible.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling a guilty squirm, "this is...not something I'm used to. Being forthcoming. I'm not trying to be difficult."

The tension in her cheeks lessened, and she nodded. "OK." She seemed to be readying her next question.

He stuck his own observation into the air first. "You haven't asked me about my diet, Bella."

"No." She shook her head, almost dismissively.

His eyebrows brushed his hairline. "Not important to you?"

"I'm going to guess the movies got that part right."

"Possibly. Depends which one." His face was devoid of any relief, all sharp and pointed with seriousness.

"Blood? Human blood?"

"Yes. It's out natural food source."

"But—?"

His estimation of her intelligence only grew, each time they met. "Not mine, no. Not now."

"But it was?"

"For a time, yes."

"And now?" Her body had shifted so as to be entirely facing him. She'd brought her feet up onto the bench, wrapping her arms around her knees. It looked trusting to him. Most humans kept their bodies half turned away, ready to flee. Not her. Her pose suggested aptness for listening. The stance children took when enraptured with a story. He knew how to entrance, certainly, but this was...different.

"Animal blood."

"Really?" She leaned forward.

Yes, trusting.

His own dead heart fluttered, or felt like it did.

"My family and I," here he smirked, "we call ourselves vegetarians."

She smiled, almost laughing. "Cute."

His face fell again. She had no concept. None. He was more lethal to her than anything she'd ever encountered, and she thought this was...cute?

"Come," he said, standing. He tilted his head towards the trees. They were never far in Forks. The town was a blip in the forest.

It only took a few minutes to be far enough into this greeness that they were clear of all human presence. "You need to understand, Bella. I am not...cute. I am not pretty. I am not harmless in anyway. I, and my kind, are the most dangerous creatures you will ever encounter."

"OK," she said, watching. Her tone told him she only understood this at the most superficial level.

His face flexed in frustration. He didn't want to frighten her, but he needed to. She had to comprehend—without misapprehension—what he was.

She could never trust him—not completely. God, it killed him to think this, even silently. He wanted her to, but she couldn't. He had no right to her, and she needed to see why.

Pulling the ten foot fir up from its roots was nothing.

She blinked, but that was all. Her heart rate remained steady.

"It is nothing for us to kill bears, Bella. Cougars, anything. It's like swatting at a baby." He snapped off a branch the circumference of his arm. Then he picked up a stone and crushed it to dust. "Nothing." He watched her, waiting for her to run, to pale, to faint, to cry.

Nothing.

"OK," she said, like she was waiting for something. "I get it, you're really strong."

"No," he said, coming close to her. Now she backed up, her motion stopped by a tree. Now she was afraid. He could hear it. Smell it. "You don't."

"I don't want...that," she breathed out, a shaking hand up, head turned away, wincing.

The realization that she wasn't afraid of him, or his nature, and what she did fear, horrified him.

"I'm sorry," he said, all that horror and self-disgust breathing out with the words. He stepped back immediately. "I would never—no, I would never do that Bella."

Her breathing was shaky. "OK." She didn't sound like she believed him.

"Never."

The grim imagining of the bodily damage he would wreak with such acts made him still with terror. No. Never.

Her shrunken posture straightened. She swallowed before speaking. "I'm not afraid of you—of what you are, Edward. I'm...right now I'm just afraid of everyone."

Of men. She was afraid of men. Him included.

"No one will harm you, Bella. I will see to that."

"I don't think that's quite possible, but thank you. It's a...nice thought."

"You doubt me?" There was a surprising swelling of injured pride, of a desire to prove himself. He felt positively juvenile at it, the feeling this girl evoked.

She mumbled, and shrugged, almost apologetically. "You've said yourself that you're not welcome where I live."

Here he huffed out a frustrated breath. Yes. "The Blacks are honorable people, Bella. They care deeply for you. They will protect you."

He couldn't quite make sense of the pained expression that had fleeting existence on her face. All his fears woke and then spoke for him. "Why? Has something happened—?" He thought of Jacob's jealous thoughts. Had the boy done something?

"No, of course not," she said, shaking her head, but there was a fresh and almost invisible tremor in her fingers.

"That's not true. Something happened. What?" He was close again, his proximity demanding an answer.

She shook her head, shrugging. "It was nothing. Jake came into my room last night—"

"WHAT?" The trees around him quivered in fear.

So did she.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out a hand to rest lightly, and briefly, on her arm. It made him ache to let go. "I feel very…" he searched for a word that wouldn't frighten or intimidate her more, "protective...of you, considering where I found you. I trusted the Blacks with your care—and they've made mistakes. If something has happened, and you need—"

"No," she said quickly. "Sorry. That was a poor way to start. I know they won't hurt me—in my head, anyway. It's just my brain isn't...in charge of my thinking all the time." She breathed in, and then out slowly. "I had a nightmare, and was screaming. Jake came in to check on me. Apparently," and here she blushed, "he sleeps in the nude. So um, he was just finishing putting his shorts on. I thought—" she shook her head. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I ran." She shrugged, as if this was nothing. "Outside. Into the woods."

Jacob had not been sleeping. Edward was willing to bet on that, but he was staying close to her, keeping her safe. Assuming this, Edward had a very good idea of what was coming next, and tensed, imagining all the horrific things that could have gone wrong. He'd smelled the others of his kind nearby, and the wolves too, if—

"And then there were giant wolves. Giant wolves. Not really big wolves, but wolves that are taller—"

"Than you and I. Yes," he finished for her.

"You know—?"

"About the wolves? Yes."

"How?"

"We have a treaty with them."

She stared, eyes demanding more.

"When we came here the first time, many years ago, we encountered them. We had no quarrel with their kind and sought peace. They knew we didn't have to offer a treaty, so they were glad to make one." He laid out the treaty details, and her face relaxed in understanding.

"Of course. You could—read their minds."

"Yes," he said. She didn't know of their dual natures.

He held out his hand. She wasn't exactly shaking, but she was obviously tired. She'd barely eaten anything that he'd seen, and by the sounds of it, hadn't had much sleep the night before. What human would, when confronted by such monsters?

Now her day had been filled with them too.

He kept his hand up in invitation, and she put her soft and warm one back in his, matching the pressure of his grip. They walked back this way to the bench.

He didn't release his hold, and neither did she.

Her breathing was an elaborate flutter. So was her heart. He could fill the remainder of his days with only that, and be happy.

"I get the feeling you think I shouldn't, but I...trust you, Edward."

The urge to take more of her into his hands was so strong his empty hand twitched. The small depression over her clavicle danced with her pulse. Her necklace thudded with it too. Yes, excitement. There was mutual feeling, in some way. He could only hope it was the same one he felt.

And yet, he had no right to her. This soft, warm human being who could have a long life full of human love, and meaningful work, and children, friendship—he had no right to her. None. But he'd told her he was a monster, and she was holding his hand.

"You shouldn't," he agreed. "You should walk away and never look back. It would be the smartest thing you could do."

"Kinda hard when we're holding hands." She said, her head turned and stretched towards him awkwardly.

In spite of himself, he grinned, displaying all his happiness at the trusting gesture of her fingers. "I didn't say I wanted to let you go."

\- 0 -

She'd had so many questions. Sooo many questions. Like, would the silver that bounced at her neck harm him? Or how old he really was—really. Or what other surprising abilities he had. If he was vulnerable in some way she needed to protect him from.

But he was holding her hand.

And it felt amazing.

It made her entire body tremble and liquify in ways she'd not imagined or wanted. Now she wanted to keep holding his hand and feeling it all day long. She wanted to curl up in his lap and feel safe. She wanted to know what his lips would feel like on hers.

She also wanted to know if the feeling was mutual. And not to. Because, what if it wasn't? God, all she had to do was look at him and be stricken by doubt.

He'd said he didn't want to let go. Was that because he felt the same way, or because he was afraid she was going to run off and blab everything she knew to everyone?

"I won't say anything," she tried to assure him. "I—"

"I trust you, Bella. I wouldn't have told you if I thought you would."

She nodded. Of course, this was about keeping his secret safe.

Her expression slipped, teeth sinking back into her lip.

"What?" he asked, a flicker of worry touching his eyes.

She shook her head.

"Please? Tell me."

"You can let go of my hand, it's OK." Her resignation was obvious.

"I don't want to, Bella."

"I won't say anything, Edward."

"I know you won't. That has nothing to do with why I want to hold your hand. When I saw you, Bella, and wanted you in a way I had no right to, it had nothing to do with what those men were trying to do with you, and everything to do with my nature. I came so close—" He breathed out, remembering, caging the monster that was growling again. "I have never been so...tempted. Ever."

"By me?"

"Yes, by you."

"Why?" It made no sense to her. She was plain and ordinary. Nothing.

"Everyone has their own personality, their own preferences, their own...smell."

She raised her eyebrows, and looked down at her body, almost chuckling.

He grinned too. "Not like that."

"OK," she said, quizzical again.

"Your blood, Bella. It was a miracle that I didn't kill you."

Oh. Her blood. Yes, that made sense. He was a...vampire. But not anything else. He was drawn by what she was, physically. It didn't scare her. That he'd said as much, in so much detail, should have terrified her. But it didn't.

She was absorbing the velvet of his hand under her fingers. So very cold, but soft too. Wishing he wanted more than just her blood. She set aside her disappointment, trying to focus on understanding more of him. It was a small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless.

"Why didn't you?"

"Great force of will. And, you'd been drugged."

"You could tell?" Just how keen his senses were was becoming apparent.

"Oh yes. I consoled my baser nature, telling myself I would wait until your blood was clean, but by then we'd started talking, and you, well...you'd entranced me. When you told me you didn't have anything to read, it just seemed so wrong to me, that you didn't have a book." He turned and looked at her. "And then I wanted you to _finish_ your book."

"Like Scheherazade," she whispered. "You took me back to keep me safe. From you."

Here his easy expression disappeared, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't trust myself that first night—"

"Please don't be. They...didn't touch me, after you came."

She swallowed, remembering what had happened before his arrival. Her fingers twitched in his grip.

"Why didn't you stay, the second night? When I asked you?" he hushed out. His thumb rubbed soft circles over her hand.

It was painful for her, remembering that time, even with him. Even now. She'd been so tempted, and terrified. "I wasn't sure. I thought your offer might be a test of loyalty." She didn't mention the stories the other girls had told.

"I wondered if that was why." Here his eyebrows pushed together in worry.

"Were you tempted, after that first night?"

"Less so."

"And now?"

"Yes, still, but i'm very, very careful. I hunt before I see you. I ask my sister what she sees."

"What do you mean?"

"My sister, Alice. She wants to meet you, by the way."

"OK." She was trying to put this all together. "What do you mean, 'what she sees'?"

He smiled again, softly. "Some of my kind are...gifted, I suppose you'd say. Not that those of us with them would say they're so. She has visions, of the future. They're not always accurate, but—"

"Your sister sees the future." She stared, her face tight with strained belief.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. She sees the outcome of choices—and those are always changing, so—"

"You check with her."

"Yes."

She blinked, several times, thinking of all he'd told her. Most of her questions remained unanswered, and each new thing revealed only more. So when he spoke again, she had to pull herself back to look at his face.

This did not help her focus.

"Does silver hurt you?" she blurted out, thinking of her necklace. Wondering if she should throw it out.

"No."

"Stakes?"

"No." He grinned.

"Anything?"

"Our own kind," he murmured. "With great and deliberate force. We are, for all human purposes, utterly invincible. You've seen our natural enemy though. Last night."

The wolves.

"You sent me there, to be away from you?"

"Oh yes," he said, smiling apologetically. "It was the best protection available."

And yet, Bella thought of Billy's face as the police had literally dragged her away.

She dropped the beginning of that particular chain of memory, its horrendous anchor something she didn't want to remember, even in the light of day. Even with her hands—

She pulled her hand away from his, digging her fingers into her thighs.

He said nothing, watching. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a crease at his forehead.

"Sorry."

"For what?" he asked.

"I Just—" she started, but couldn't finish. There was simply too much in her head, and then her body, slithering with things best forgotten. "I need to go home," she blurted out. "And I should go to school, see what I missed—"

"You should rest," Edward said. "You've fainted—twice, in twenty four hours. You should probably not be driving—"

"Yes, well, I need to go home." She was standing, trying to look steady and purposeful.

"OK," he said, slowly, that worried pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Let's get you back to school then."

She kept a distance now, hoping he didn't see just how rattled she was.

His own movements were smooth and soft, a curved hand waving her ahead of him to the car, where he held the door for her.

She sat in it, both grieved and glad that the ride back to her own car would be short, that she wouldn't have the confusion of his presence much longer.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	16. Jerks

**Jerks**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-21: Just a heads up, folks, that real life and other writing work will mean a slow down in this tale. I will post regularly, but less frequently.

~ Erin

(AT FlamingMapleWrites on FaceBook)

* * *

Jacob had tried, as they all tried, to keep what was private, private.

He was better than some at this.

Conversely, Paul had no such skill. His inability to compartmentalize had left him at first angry, then bitter. Then resigned. He solved his problem by giving up on all boundaries, ignoring the careful ones his packmates erected. It wasn't malicious, but simply a resignation to the inevitable. There were no secrets between them. Not anymore.

It had been one such of those moments, when Jacob's worried thoughts of Bella bubbled up from behind the careful screen he'd held up. They were tracking scents—mostly old—when Jacob's focus slipped.

There was a sort of mental silence when they saw what Jacob remembered.

He winced, realizing what he'd done.

Finally, Seth murmured a genuine, _I'm so sorry_ in their joined minds.

Sam sighed. He was older. He wasn't surprised.

Leah's jaded acceptance was grim.

Paul laughed with tense discomfort. _Seriously?_ He thought. _She was a drugged up whore?_

After that, only Sam's authority had been sharp enough to come between Jacob's teeth and Paul's hide.

Jacob had really been more angry with himself, than Paul, for violating Bella's privacy. Everyone accepted that Paul just had no filter between his brain and his mouth, or his thoughts and their sharing.

Most of the pack's thoughts were sympathetic towards Bella.

Now that the one thought had escaped, others squiggled free, and while Paul tried to hold in his reactions, he wasn't successful.

 _God, she's like your sister, and you've got the hots for her? Shitty dude—_ a _nd she's a ho_!

Sam sent Jacob home after that. Told him to get himself together.

At least she'd showered, Jacob thought, coming in the door as quietly as he could. The smell was still strong, but not as bad.

He hadn't asked. He was too afraid of the questions it would raise. Sam hadn't let him share what he was with Bella. He understood the reasons for keeping it close, but it still rankled. She knew there were wolves, and understood their purpose—but he doubted she'd made the connection between the Quieueltes themselves, as being the wolves.

Billy had told him that she'd missed the afternoon school. Gone to the hospital. That Edward Cullen had phoned and told them she was with him.

"Least he called," Billy muttered, when he caught Jacob's look.

Jacob had simply set his jaw into a harder line. Fricking vampires.

It did not help him accept the Cullens anymore than he was required to, seeing their helpful meddling in Bella's life.

He and BIlly were both less certain when she came home tired and jittery, excusing herself early for the evening.

So when Bella asked Jacob, a few days later, if he wanted to join her and her school friends at the beach the next day, he was happy to say yes. To have her company, even if it was shared with other people—at least they would be people.

The weather humoured them, or teased, depending on the perspective. Flickering rays of sun bounced in unpredictable patterns, touching rocks with their temporary warmth, then disappearing again.

Jacob's welcome had expanded, somehow, to include Paul, Embry and Quill. He resigned himself to the sharing of her company with more people. Bella's school friends were cautiously welcoming, and made warm space around the driftwood fire sputtering in front of them.

They'd all done their due diligence in lobbing seaweed bombs on first arrival, tossing the long kelp ropes at each other for fun, gathering wood and exchanging names.

Jacob watched Bella sit beside Sally, the two girls exchanging comfortable, but quiet conversation. It looked to Jacob like Bella was more maternal, than anything else, her concern worn in her often wrinkling forehead.

Sally gave her a pointed "thanks mom!", which set them both chuckling. Bella's blush told Jacob the words had struck home in some way. He wasn't sure if it was a good one.

Another blurb of chatter caught his ear. Mike and Tyler had brought their boards, and were busy trying to convince Ben to join them.

Jacob watched them try next with Bella, but she simply shook her head, smiling and pointing at her ribs.

"Chicken," Mike teased gently, "but fine. Guess it's just us men." He cleared his throat dramatically, lowering his voice. "C'mon Tyler, time to go pound some waves into submission!"

They slapped their hands up in a high five and slipped behind the large log the fire sat before.

One of the girls near Bella—Angela?—rolled her eyes and called out, "You know, you could go somewhere else to get changed."

Sally was sitting beside Bella. Jacob saw that they'd glanced at each other as the sounds of belts and zippers clanked behind them.

Then he heard their breathing change. They'd been fine, but clearly something had shifted, and not pleasantly. Sally's air rattled on the way in and out, and Bella's heart rate was pounding, her face abnormally pale. Their hands were joined in a single, anxious fist

It was enough for Paul to see, and then stupidly open his mouth to whisper to Jacob. "So, the ho's are like lez-be-friends, or something?"

It would've been a quiet comment, but the wind caught it, throwing it at everyone's ears.

Jacob didn't even bother with trying to let it go. He stood up abruptly, accidently tipping the log back, and making everyone beside it startle a bit. Then he wrapped his fingers around Paul's ear and dragged him towards the tree line. Several snarly Arubutus and pines in, he used his fist to punctuate his displeasure, and educate Paul in what was, and was not OK to say aloud. He didn't bother trying to use words.

When he returned, less one Paul, the mood was subdued, but not the unnatural quiet he'd left.

He knew better than to try and touch Bella, so he crouched across from her and Sally, mouthing, when everyone else looked away, "you OK?"

She nodded, a small and uncertain smile on her lips. Sally nodded at Jacob, and he returned the gesture.

\- 0 -

Edward had waited on her. Wanted to wait and let her take the lead on what they would be.

He was waiting. He wanted to think he was so well practised at it, that he was an expert.

He didn't feel so expert though. He felt like an anxious mess. She hadn't called, or texted, or so much as breathed towards him, from what he could tell.

He regretted, for the thousandth time, giving her care to the Blacks.

In the interim, he'd busied himself with a small task he hoped would please her.

Locating the high school had been simple. Finding her scent, almost months old, was harder. It took several tries to find it, but the whole errand lasted only a few minutes. With a light flick the padlock was broken, and her locker open. He took everything but the textbooks, slipping them into the backpack now waiting in his room.

Against great temptation, he'd resisted the urge to open her journal and study its offerings. Her drawing the other day had entranced him, the way she snatched from the air the lines of the world around her. Of him.

She'd drawn him.

She'd held his hand, too.

Until the better part of her mind had realized what he was.

A low snarl vibrated up his chest.

She could escape him, still. He wouldn't interfere. But he'd watch, and keep her safe. He could exist with that—her happiness, observed from a distance.

She'd said she trusted him, against his warning. Given him what he wanted.

He wanted to think it was the trauma of what she'd been through that had spoken...but it seemed so dredged in hopeful wishing he knew better than to lean on this slim probability.

His phone buzzed.

Alice, he thought as a grumble, settled in his resiny perch.

But no. It was Bella: _free after school tomorrow?_

His reply was instant: _anytime._

 _Have an appointment at 4:30, but perhaps we can talk?_

 _Yes_ , he typed back. _Meet you at school?_

It took a moment to get this last reply: _sure._

He would see her. Tomorrow. He gazed out over the forest and the very distant ocean. He sighed. He would need to hunt. Tripping lightly from branch to branch, he made his way East towards the thicker woods and the greater game.

A stray thought made him stop, and then snake his journey by the Weber house. His checks there had been regular, but cursory. He felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't been there already that evening. He wanted to make sure Sally was still happy in this new home.

The two older girls were both in bed, but not quite asleep, contended thoughts a reassurance to him. A good family. A good home. Esme and Carlisle had done well there.

He was grateful. It was such a small goodness to offer Bella, the happiness and well being of this girl. He would do it many times over, if it would lighten the strain in her face.

It was so easy to feel guilt, and regret, when he thought of her. He could've saved her so much distress, if he'd simply acted sooner. Sally too.

He'd left Bella with the Blacks in that alley, and walked directly back to the club, pointing to Sally, and then walking her inside. Intent on his larger mission, he'd almost ignored her, and it had only been when he'd realized she was trembling that he addressed her more than cursorily.

"Sorry," he'd said, "you must be hungry." He'd waved over one of the servers and asked for a menu, at which he was given a dubious look. He'd had to repeat the request to the stunned looking woman.

He was busy, plucking stratagems and numbers and schemes from the minds of the men in the club. Most were involved in some sort of racketeering or overt prostitution or drug dealing. Their plans were not hard to deduce from the details their unguarded thoughts provided.

"Do you want me to do something?" Sally had nervously asked.

"Yes. I'd like you to sit, and eat something. Then we're going to leave, and you will never come back here again. I will take you somewhere safe, near where your friend will be. If you want."

She'd stared at him, her face a careful mask.

"Unless you wish to stay?" he'd asked, knowing very well she didn't.

"No," she'd hushed out.

He'd nodded at that. "I just need to wait a little while, and do some...thinking, before we go."

It'd been simple, his information gathered, to then leave with Sally. To call the police. To pinch the books that needed pinching from the safe in Jim's office.

He'd taken Sally straight to a store to buy her some decent clothes, and then back to his apartment. They'd left for Forks first thing in the morning, Carlisle having secured a space for her with the Webers.

There had been no secrets with them as to Sally's history, or Bella's. He'd been grateful for their discretion. They were rare people. He didn't trust he'd find such a kind reception for the girls' stories from the rest of the small town's populace.

This obligation fulfilled, he went on, bounding into the wet depths of the woods, scenting prey. He didn't bother with waiting on larger game, eliminating a small clutch of racoons and then a mature deer.

One hunger at bay, he returned home to change, and prepare to sate the other. His hand twitched over the bag, and he pulled it away.

No. He wouldn't. It was hers. He would see it when she wanted him to.

If she did.

Tomorrow, he told himself, strangling the desire to be able to sleep, to erase the time between now and then.

Leaving the bag, he found himself at the piano, fingers itching over its keys, a restless flutter of notes making Rosalie snort.

He grimaced, and made the sounds more purposeful—following a fragment of a melody towards is origins. He found its roots nestled in a meandering bass line that straddled conventional rhythms, a lonely treble answering this mournful call.

Rosalie got up and left the room, her inner disgust with what she saw as trite musicality enough to motivate her movement.

Esme's smile from her study was almost audible. _Composing again_ , she thought. _Good_.

He supposed he might as well finish the tune, fleshing out the boundaries of the piece, putting the many black-headed notes to the staff paper on the stand.

It wasn't necessary, but he liked to pretend that such a record gave his music a permanence beyond himself. He knew this as utter fantasy, but the idea that his music might surpass his own existence was as harmless a one as he could have.

"Going to pretend you can live happily ever after with her too?" Jasper asked from the living room, watching, and clearly feeling his wistfulness, Edward realized.

He gave a soft snort in response.

"Rose's right, Edward."

Another snort.

"And so's Alice."

All the good feeling fled.

"No." He knew his altered mood would end their conversation.

Jasper shrugged. His thoughts were clear: Edward's acceptance, or denial had little to do with the outcome. Alice had seen that.

The feeling ruined, Edward finished his hasty notations, and returned to his room.

He let his nose hover of the bag, filling with her scent, and then returning it to the custody of the air. He wished it would not be so diluted, and polluted by existence of so many other competing smells.

So he spent the remainder of the night, transfixed with thoughts of Bella, and the poor substitute her belongings made.

He felt as anxious as the adolescents nearby, when the school bell finally rang.

He'd located her in the minds of the other students, tracing her steps from her last class towards the parking lot.

He hadn't been pleased to find her looking so wan. Unwell. Had she not been sleeping again? Troubled by nightmares of his own making? Or the wolves?

Then more thoughts flicked his way, Sally's among them.

Oh. He almost grimaced at some of them.

Someone had said something. Word had spread. He hoped, with a sickening guilt, that it wasn't Angela. The temptation to elevate oneself with the cache such secret information provided—he berated himself for not ensuring Angela was well suited to resist the temptation.

Then he heard, most distinctly, who _had_ spoken.

Jessica.

A creature unworthy of the adolescent label, she was more child than anything else, and a spiteful one at that.

But his concern only grew, as more pointed memories were reaching him.

The sound of metal, buckling startled him. His hand had left a dent in Bella's truck. He retracted his fist, stuffing it into his pocket.

Scanning the swarming school populace, it took him a few seconds to find them.

There.

One tall blonde, and another sandy-haired boy, both clad in letterman jackets, were walking towards the parking lot. The one jabbed the other with his elbow, seeing Bella.

Their memories were proximate, two disjointed films running simultaneously, a crude narrative he witnessed from these two angles.

One of them had slipped a twenty onto the desk in front of her. She'd been reading the book he'd given her—and was almost finished, if the thickness of the pages remaining was any indication. The teacher had been at the front of the room, bent over some papers, obviously preoccupied before the start of class. Bella and the two boys might as well have been alone in the space, for all the attention the man paid them.

"So, how 'bout a blow?" one of them had whispered and snorted, laughing openly at the end of the question.

Edward could only see her back in their memories. It was stiff, and unmoving.

"Oh, wait, justa sec'," the boy had guffawed. He'd pulled the twenty off the desk, and replaced it with two singletons. "Think that's the more traditional price."

Still, nothing from Bella. Barely even the rise and fall of her lungs.

"So you gonna do it here, or just get under the desk?" the other boy asked, looking at his friend eagerly, egging him on.

The other had then unzipped his fly, "c'mon, class is about to start."

She'd said nothing, the bell for class having indeed rung.

They'd both witnessed the tremble in her back though.

It was the appearance of a frowning boy that had made them get up and move, Edward only catching the concerned "Bella?" in this new boy's voice.

Tyler, he thought to himself. Yes. He looked for the boy in the crowd—finding him near Jessica.

Bella was within sighting distance of Edward now, and stopped, her gaze wide and surprised.

Had she forgotten?

He raised his hand in a cautious and quiet greeting.

She did the same, continuing on, but more slowly now.

Jessica's thoughts preceded her. He would've moaned, if he thought it wouldn't encourage her.

"Oh wow. Hi, Edward!" she called, trotting towards him.

"Hi," he said as cooly as he could.

Bella was just at the edge of the truck.

"Hi Bella," he said, much more warmly.

"You guys know each other?" Jessica made it an accusation, and a question all in one.

"Yeah, from Seattle," Bella answered, breathing in and out quickly.

Edward dared hold out his hand for hers.

She took it, and Jessica's eyes widened.

"Should we get going?" he asked Bella, ignoring Jessica, not caring if his rudeness drew unwanted attention.

He wanted to go break the legs of the boys who'd tormented her first, but he didn't like the way her face was unpredictably paling and pinking.

"Sounds good," she said, her hand squeezing his, but ultimately releasing it.

Jessica turned and walked away, a huffy pout on her lips, and unkinder thoughts fuelling her immeidate future.

"Do you consider her a friend?" he asked Bella, lifting his chin towards Jessica.

"Don't really know her well, but she's been friendly."

An interesting answer, he mused.

"She isn't worth your trust."

She looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing.

He tapped his head. "I don't know how, but she found out about your experience in Seattle. Sally's too. She's told several people. It's the juiciest bit of gossip she's had in a while."

Bella's face seemed to fall partway, but then she stopped it, holding her features in a careful composition. She shrugged, shaking her head. "I didn't expect it to be quiet for long. Someone said something on Saturday."

"Who did?"

"One of Jake's friends. He must've let something slip, I guess." A flash of a pain crossed her face.

Edward almost felt sorry for Jacob. Bella clearly didn't realize what he was, or how he would have had little choice but to reveal this to his packmates. The feeling shifted quickly, as he saw what that small thing had done to her.

"I'm sorry," he said to her. "For that, and for what others have done with it." Here he looked towards the crowd, letting his gaze settle visibly on the boys he'd noted before.

She followed the trajectory of his eyes, shaking her head again. "It's fine. They were just being jerks."

"It's not fine," he said, turning back to her. "They were cruel, tactless idiots. They upset you." His words were clipped with anger.

Now when she looked at him, it was with nerves, her eyebrows too close together, breathing quick. "You wouldn't...hurt anyone, would you?" She sounded very uncertain of the answer.

"Of course not," he said, forcing the feature of his face to soften. "But I'm going to speak with them."

He felt the flutter of her fingers on his arm as he went to move away.

"Please don't," she said. "It's fine. Really. It'll…" she breathed out nervous air, "just make it worse."

She looked genuinely worried. Anxious. He understood. She was a newcomer here, despite her father's long legacy in the town. "I promise you," he said, squeezing her fingers gently again, "it will make things better." Her teeth were solidly in her lip, but she nodded, before he walked away.

"Gentlemen," he said, approaching the two. They were close to him in height, but not quite so tall.

"Uh, hi?" the blonde one asked, nervous at Edward's approach.

"I understand you spoke with Bella earlier today, and that you were less than kind."

The sandy haired one tried to laugh it off. "What, you her pimp or something?"

Edward skewered him to the spot with his eyes alone.

The boy stepped back, frightened by the transformation of Edward's face. The dry swallow in the boy's throat was an echo of his quavering thoughts.

"I would hate to think that anyone could be so unkind to her. She's a lovely person. Practically family to me and mine."

In their minds, they recalled Emmett's hulking form, and Jasper's leaner, but equally intimidating one. Their silence was palpable.

"In fact, I would hold you responsible for any unkind words or situations she or her friends would have to endure, because of the nasty rumours you've helped spread."

He waited for them to grasp these words, going on when their understandings were sufficient. Paler faces accented their comprehension.

"Of course, I would also take it as a measure of good faith if you were to actively deter the spreading of such rumours." Both boys nodded.

"Good," Edward said. "And you will make sure no one else troubles her. After you apologize. Now."

Then he turned and began to walk back towards Bella, who watched his approach with as many marks of nervousness as his leaving. He didn't even turn to see if the boys were following. Their thoughts told him as much.

"These boys have something to say to you, Bella," he said, putting his hand lightly on her back, trying to show all would be well.

They mumbled the most awkward apologies, not even daring to meet her eyes. Their minds spoke loudly enough to their fear of what Edward would do if they displeased him in this regard, and they hurried away when all was done.

"They will not bother you again, and they will make certain no one else does, either."

"And what did you threaten them with?" she asked guardedly.

"Nothing," he said innocently. "I just told them I'd hold them responsible for any further nastiness you endured on this front. That seemed sufficient."

Her eyebrows lifted. "And you don't see that as a threat?"

"Of course not."

"They're terrified of you, Edward."

"Of course they are." They should be, he thought, not that they understood why.

She pressed her lips together. "I know you mean well, Edward, but—"

"Would you prefer I leave them unchecked, and move on to taunt Sally?" he asked quietly.

She'd opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, shaking her head. "Thank you," she finally said, but something worrisome kept it from being as light as he wanted to hear.

They stood still for a moment, her eyes down, his on her, an uncomfortable silence between them.

He broke it by slipping the bag off of his shoulder. "I have something to return to you."

"Return?" she asked, looking up.

"Yes," he said, holding the bag out to her.

"That's not mine."

"Its contents are," he said. "And the bag is for you. I thought you might want something for school." He eyed the cloth carryall slung over her shoulder. Hardly practical for all her books. It hung heavily, making her back tilt awkwardly to one side.

"Here," he offered his other hand to take the bag, then smiled, thinking of his human youth.

"What?" she asked, a quizzical smile starting to grow on her face.

His smile blossomed, "when I was young, it was considered gentlemanly to carry a young lady's books for her."

"Oh?" There was something playful there.

He took her other bag, enjoying the brush of her fingers as they exchanged these items.

The happy gasp that escaped her, after she opened the satchel, made him smile in return.

"How?" she asked, looking up at him, as she held her journal, leaning against her truck. "I mean, thank you, so much."

Then she darted forward and hugged him. It was the most beautiful and fleeting feeling, her body pressed against his. His own hands just ghosted over her back before she pulled away.

A small wetness sat on the chest of his shirt, and he watched as she rubbed the heel over her palm over her face.

"This means...so much. So much." She was staring at the cover of the book, pressing her thumbs into it. The whole thing shook with a feeling he wanted to understand.

"You're very welcome," he murmured. Looking around, the parking lot had almost emptied, a few stray students here and there heading home. "I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere else?"

"Not a fan of the parking lot, huh?" she said, smiling, looking at him, and then looking at her book.

Perhaps she wanted to be alone? To look through it again? His stomach sank at this speculation.

Then her stomach growled.

"Can I take you somewhere—get something to eat?"

She sighed, and blushed a little. It was beautiful to see her spirits lift.

"Human," she said, shrugging, as if his otherness was nothing. Then she peered at his eyes, quizzical suddenly. "Your eyes. They change—is that—?"

"Hunger, yes. Darker when I'm hungry."

"You were hungry," she almost whispered, nodding, eyes relaxing in understanding.

"Oh yes," he said, letting a bitter smile flicker over his lips. He wanted to see her settled somewhere more comfortable though, "and you are now. Shall we?" He waved a hand towards her truck.

"OK," she said, pulling her keys out of her pocket.

He watched her slip into the driver's side, joining her on the other. If his own thoughts were audible to her, the rumble of the truck's engine would barely cover the anxious wanting they expressed.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	17. Not in my stratosphere

**Not in my stratosphere**

* * *

A/N for 2018-09-25: It's only Tuesday, and it feels like work has consumed me - not in a bad way, but in a don't-expect-anything-intelligent-after-4 PM kind of way. Fortunately, I wrote this on the weekend.

~ Erin

* * *

They were sitting in the corner of Fork's only cafe, "The Perker." It was small, but had artfully constructed niches that offered the illusion of privacy.

"Has school been OK, otherwise?" Edward asked, his eyebrows creasing together.

She wondered what his skin there would feel like. If it would be cold, too. Probably, she speculated.

"OK so far. People have been pretty kind."

He nodded. "And the Blacks?"

"They've been great," she smiled, a small and temporary upturn of her lips. "Checking on your charity case?"

"Charity case?" he asked, sitting back, hands flat on the tabletop. "Really?" He didn't smile.

"Well you've assured me I'm not a meal." She was still trying to puzzle just what she was to him.

His eyebrows rose higher. "You think you're a charity case?"

She lifted her shoulders in the tiniest shrug, staring at the pastry in front of her. She'd eaten very little of it so far.

"You are as far from a charity case to me as you can possibly imagine," he said softly.

When she flicked her gaze up again, she saw his face was utterly serious.

Now she regretted her flippancy. "I'm sorry, I'm being really rude." She let a deep breath out. "Today was...difficult. You've been nothing but kind to me, and I'm very grateful, but I don't want you to feel...obligated to help me. I'm OK. I'm actually going to see a counsellor today. I'll be fine—"

"I'm glad you're getting help," he interrupted, "but you're wrong about why I'm here. It has nothing to do with charity, or some imagined obligation."

She hid her frustration. He'd told her he wasn't used to being forthcoming. Clearly, he had no interest in enlightening her about his true reasons for being near her.

Teeth couched in her lower lip, she endured the anxiety and somersaulting nerves in her stomach. God, she was all over the place. Especially after today. She'd wanted to apologize to him, for the way she'd left things last time. Now she was tripping over her sorry's—there were so many of them.

"Actually, I asked to see you because I wanted to apologize for falling apart on you the other day."

Edward tilted his head at this, letting his eyebrows lift in surprise. "I thought you handled yourself incredibly well, all things considered."

She smiled nervously. "If you say so."

"I don't have much of a basis for comparison, but I can't imagine anyone handling what I told you any better."

She didn't remind him that she'd fainted. "Have you ever told anyone before?"

He shook his head. "You're the first."

This was another question that had rattled her awake at night. "Why me?"

His face smoothed out, like this was simple. "I wanted you to know. And I suspected you were close to figuring it out."

She nodded.

"Why did you want me to know?"

He didn't answer this right away, and she blurted out her next question.

"I thought maybe you were testing your willpower—being around me."

"Of course not." These words were vehement. "I'd never risk you that way. Ever."

"Then, why?"

His evasiveness returned. "Why do you think?"

It was her turn to snap up her eyebrows. It was the kind of technique she'd seen wielded by the most insecure of people. Those who feared discovery of their ignorance, and hid it in returned questions. "Why don't you want to tell me?"

He cocked an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "I've already told you, Bella." He leaned forward on the table, angling himself to bring his face closer to hers. "I want you to trust me."

The proximity of his face was mesmerizing, and she had to grit her teeth together to push out a nearly growled, "I do. Why?"

He made a low sort of chuckle and leaned back, grinning ruefully. "Don't you think you're worth spending time with?"

"Do you have an aversion to statements? Wait, no, let me demonstrate: you have an aversion to statements."

Now he chuckled openly. "I like you, Bella. Is that so hard to believe?"

He liked her. _He_ liked _her_.

That just seemed impossible.

Her disbelief was as transparent as all the other feelings that walked her face.

His own expression was serious. "You don't see yourself clearly, Bella. Not at all."

She really wished the blush wasn't quite so vivid. "I see myself quite clearly, Edward. I'm just...I'm not blind. And I don't understand what a person in your...stratosphere is doing down on the earth, with a person like me."

He grinned, and then laughed softly, shaking his head. "I'd use the same analogy, except, I'd be the one on ground."

Bella's eyebrows swished up into her hairline at this clear disingenuousness. She didn't want to confront him on it though, so she took a bite of her pastry, and then sipped her drink.

Edward was watching her, eyes almost squinting, like he was trying to figure something out. "You remember what I told you about the end of that first night, when I took you?"

She nodded.

"I was fascinated by _you_ , Bella. Not anything else."

She frowned. This didn't make sense.

"Why do you find that hard so to believe?"

"Because if it sounds too good to be true, it probably isn't."

"You think that me liking you is improbable?"

She whispered it out. "Yes."

"Well, I'd counter that you being rescued by a vampire is fairly improbable, and given that improbability, the odds of said vampire finding your company desirous are just as likely as not." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes trained on hers.

There was a wave of feeling—grief, and anguish, and longing that rose together and strangled her throat.

She shook her head, almost wishing their time was over, that she didn't have to face this pain. The notion of cancelling her appointment fluttered across her mind.

"I'm not sure what that no means," Edward said softly.

"I'm really messed up, Edward. That's what it means."

His hands came together on the table, like he was keeping them from something, and then abruptly took both of hers in his. She breathed in sharply at the contact, but not because she was afraid. His touch was just so electric.

"You feel that too," he said.

She was staring at their hands, breathing in, and then out. She allowed herself to nod.

"The other night," Edward started, "you said I was your white knight. I'm not, Bella. You know what I am now. I am as monstrous a creature as can be." She began to shake her head. "No," he said quickly. "I am. And I need you to understand something. I'll leave you be, after I've told you this, if you want me to."

He caught her eye and she nodded, wondering what he was talking about.

"I didn't come back for you because I wanted to save you, Bella. I came back because I fell in love with you."

Then he released her hands, settling his carefully back on the table, like one would put a weapon in plain sight, to ensure a truce.

So overwrought by the events of the last months, and weeks, and now this day, it was too much for Bella. Some sort of choked and angry sound escaped her throat, and she stood, knocking her chair back into the wall, and skirting the table, heading for the exit.

Edward was not far behind.

"Bella, please wait—"

"You said you'd go, Edward, if I wanted you to, so why don't you just go? You've had your fun, just like the other boys—"

He stopped her angry outburst by coming close, his breath stunning her with his soft "Please."

She stood, transfixed by him, so close, and yet so removed from the realms he inhabited.

"I am not ridiculing you Bella, or attempting to toy with you. I am completely earnest. I know you've been hurt—profoundly—and if you aren't ready, I understand. I will always be waiting though. Always."

She stood shaking, trembling. It was too much. Simply too much to believe.

"I thought...I thought the feeling might be mutual. If I've misread—"

"No," she forced out. "No, I'm...just…I—" there weren't words that adequately explained it. The last bit of control cracked, and there was no stopping the flood of tears that washed up and over her cheeks now. Her breath rattled in and out, and Edward came closer, one arm bracing her side, the other at her cheek, his face all creased with worry.

"How can I help you, Bella?" he asked.

"Thank you for just...being here."

They stood there for a few minutes, this awkward embrace slipping into a closer one.

When the tears had subsided, she mustered her courage, and asked him, "do you really feel that for me?"

His grin stretched wide and beautiful. It was like watching the sun come up, it was so dazzling. "You stole my heart that first night. And you're welcome to keep it."

Her own smile couldn't help but join his. "This feels very...surreal."

His fingers felt delicate at her face, and she lifted her own to join his there.

"I would say more miraculous," he murmured, his smile only a flicker, features all poised for something more serious.

They were very close now, and moving closer.

Then Edward's pocket began to vibrate, breaking the spell.

"Oh," Bella said, "do you need to—?"

"No," he smiled, but backing away slightly. "I know who it is."

"How?"

"Who else?" he smiled. "Alice, my sister." Sighing, he said, "I'm afraid I have no excuse not to introduce you now."

Bella bit her lip, thinking of what his family would think of her.

"No, no," he said, "I meant more to spare you Alice, rather than the other way around."

"OK."

"She's a...force, to be reckoned with."

"If you say so." Her words were mumbled. She wasn't so sure.

"You'll see." He was grinning again. Now he took her hand in his, and she sighed. "Would you like to come meet them? My family? For dinner tomorrow night?"

She swallowed. Dinner. With his family. She was so awe-struck she could barely think straight. Her next words reflected this. "Um, as long as I'm not the dinner? Sure."

Edward stared for a bit. "It isn't something to joke about, Bella." His rebuke was gentle, but real enough.

"OK. No blood jokes. So...wear a turtleneck?"

He chuckled now. "Wear whatever you want." Then he sighed. "But I think I might have kept you late today."

She glanced at her watch. "Oh, shoot. My appointment—"

"Is in five minutes. Yes. Perhaps I can drive?" he asked.

He had her at the hospital in three crisp, hair-raising minutes.

"Wait," she said, as she went to go to her appointment. "How are you going to get home. Your car—"

"Not necessary." He said, chuckling, like her concern was funny. "Trust me."

These words sat less easily with her. She trusted him, yes, but...always that but. With everyone. She made her mouth form the loop and glottal stop of an "OK." A tentative production.

Then he took her hand slowly and pressed it to his lips with a kiss that frosted her skin with the sensation of a flame. "I'll call you."

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	18. What isn't safe

Billy and Jacob had been busy, Bella realized, when she got home. There was a BBQ set up in the front yard, its innards smoking contentedly while Jacob prodded at them.

"Hey you," Jacob called, waving a spatula at her. He was wearing an apron. He looked positively domestic.

"Hey yourself," she called back, smiling, but looking quizzically at the BBQ.

"Thought we might enjoy the good weather today," Billy said. "And some good burgers."

Ah, yes. Billy's burgers were one of the things she remembered happily from summer childhoods here.

"Thank you," she said softly, sitting down across from him at the small picnic table.

"Your appointment go OK?" he asked, quietly enough that Jacob wouldn't hear.

She nodded, giving a hushed, "yeah." Not one for many words himself, she hoped he didn't press for more than this. She needn't have worried.

He nodded slowly. "Good. I'm glad."

They settled into more wordy, but mundane conversation about their days, the weather, and other safe topics. It wasn't in any way strained, just the ease of ordinary chatter.

This was a relief, after the day she'd had. While there was a very real, but quiet, bubbling happiness simmering in the depths of herself, she had to fight the urge to disbelieve. She hadn't said anything about what had happened at school, but this one good thing, she wanted to share. To make real in words for more than just herself. After Jacob tidily dispensed with the last few extra burgers, and she'd teased him gently about it, she'd steeled herself enough to pull, from hiding, the things that trembled in her heart.

But Jacob beat her to it. "You look happy, Bella. I'd like to think it's my cooking, but I kinda doubt it."

She smiled, feeling the unfamiliar full stretch of it across her lips. "Something...good happened today. You could say."

"Oh?" Billy asked. He had that look on his face, the kind that parents got when they sensed a revelation. She'd seen it on her mom's. On Charlie's.

Another feeling squeezed her innards, and she almost lost her courage. There are good things, she told herself. There will be more good things.

"Well, you know Edward—"

The easy expression on Jacob's face disappeared.

Catching Billy's look, from across the table, Bella was sure he wanted to kick his son. Obviously, he couldn't, so his scowl stood in place of it.

"Go on," Billy said gently. His face might have been encouraging. She wasn't sure. She was looking at her food.

Now the words were harder to find. "Um, well...we've started seeing each other."

She was still looking at her plate, now not at all certain of the wisdom of disclosing this, when the table began to shake.

"Jake—" Billy said, voice full of warning. "Go!"

Bella followed Billy's gaze. Jacob was vibrating. Not just vibrating, but seeming to shake out of his form, trying to stand.

"Bella, get away!"

She didn't need to be told twice, and stood, but misplaced her foot in extracting herself from the picnic table.

There was a ripping sound, and as she flung her forearms up against what seemed like an explosion, felt something run down her arm.

Then there was a wolf where Jacob had been, and as much as she wanted to run, to flee from it, she couldn't. She stood transfixed, hands up and useless against its size and mass.

"GO!" BIlly bellowed at it, and miraculously, it did.

He was pushing himself over the awkward ground, trying to get to her.

"Sit down, Bella."

She blinked at him, as he approached.

"Sit down, honey, please."

He had something in his hand—a napkin, and was pressing it to her arm, trying to reach up to her shoulder to get her to sit. "You look like you're gonna faint. Please, sit down."

She did, surprised by the sting in her arm. Then she looked at it, and she turned her head away, trying to stem the waves of dizziness that threatened.

Things became hazy, and she was aware of Billy talking, but not to her.

She jerked her head up and around. Was Jacob back?

No, they were alone, but Billy was on the phone. He clicked it shut. "Sue's on her way. Gonna get you to the hospital. You're gonna be fine." It was obviously meant to reassure her, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

When she arrived, Sue was calm and gentle, murmuring soft things to Bella like, "bit of a shock, isn't it? That first time you see it."

That first time? Bella thought. See it? As in, this is normal?

And then it all clicked: The wolves. They were people. They were wolves. They were...she didn't know what they were, but they were people who became wolves.

And she was living with one of them.

What the hell else was she going to find scurrying through the forest?

There were certainly more than enough real human monsters for her.

A low sort of tremble took up residence in her legs, and then her arms. She couldn't quite hold onto the present, slipping in and out of the now and the then, flickers of wolf and David and other unpleasant things running on repeat in her thoughts.

By the time they got to the hospital, she was thoroughly spooked by everything, and anything that moved.

When the nurse left her in a small cubicle, she told her to leave the curtain open. She wanted to see what was coming her way, long before it got there.

And she did. The immaculate form of Carlisle Cullen never looked so welcome as it walked towards her.

He didn't even bother with a polite greeting, simply laid his eyes on her arm, and then the rest of her, asking, "what happened?" His voice was missing its normal low and patient tone. There was an edge she hadn't heard before.

"Big...dog," Bella managed to get out.

Carlisle's jaw was very tight, but then relaxed, looking at her arm more closely. "That's a nasty cut. It's going to need stitching, and antibiotics."

She nodded.

When he went to touch her wrist, she jerked it away.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"No, no," he said softly. "It's OK." He seemed to think for a moment, then said, "I just need to get a few things. I'll be right back."

His footsteps were silent, but she heard the hissed words exchanged with Billy, a short distance away.

"I looked the other way with Emily, but this is too much. You promised me—"

"I promised no such thing, Cullen, and you know it."

There was a silence, in which Bella's breathing felt loud to her.

"Do you really think Charlie Swan would thank you for this?"

"Charlie would thank me to keep his daughter away from creatures like your son—"

"So she could be sliced up by yours?" came the quick rebuttal.

There was a rustling pause, and Carlisle returned, a tray of supplies in hand.

Bella glanced up at him, wondering if he knew she'd have heard his argument with BIlly.

"Do you feel safe, Bella, with the Blacks?" he asked, snapping on gloves.

Her stomach clenched, and she recalled, with a sickening ease, the precariousness of her position. It was the Blacks, or foster care.

"Or perhaps you'd prefer to stay somewhere else tonight? Or for a few days?"

Foster care. He was offering her another foster care placement.

She closed her eyes. "It's fine," she said. It really wasn't.

"Because my wife and I are registered as an emergency placement, if you want somewhere else to stay."

With Edward.

She had to swallow before she could open her mouth. "Maybe...maybe just for tonight. If Billy's OK with it."

She trusted Billy. She really did, but she needed to be somewhere else tonight. Just to clear her head.

"We'd be happy to have you. And I'm sure Mr. Black will understand, all things considered."

All the vampires and wolves considered.

"I'm going to numb the area before I start stitching, OK?"

He had a syringe in one hand.

She leaned away from it.

His face didn't change in expression, but his shoulders softened. "I can use a topical anesthetic, but you'll feel a lot more of it."

Bella nodded. She'd rather feel what he did, than deal with more anxiety about what was really in that syringe.

Probably just local anesthetic.

Probably.

She knew she was being ludicrous, and pressed her forearm down, nodding, indicating he should start.

He flushed out the wound, and then swabbed on the numbing gel liberally.

"Has Edward told you about his sister, Alice?" Carlisle asked quietly, preparing the suturing needle.

"A little."

He nodded, waiting a moment, hands resting on the table. "Then he is likely aware you're here. And will probably be here soon."

Vampires. Giant wolves. Psychics.

She took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"I can tell him not to, if you want."

"No," she said quickly. "It's not him—it's—" She wasn't sure if it was safe to talk about this here, or how, exactly, to express it. "Let's just get this done, please."

He worked quickly, and while she felt the tug and dig of the needle, it was better to know it, than to wonder what might happen next.

Needless worries, she told herself. Being paranoid.

She was so preoccupied with these thoughts that she only caught the tail end of the mumbled, and not friendly conversation between Billy and Edward.

She did hear them come in.

"Hi," she said, lifting her head up, taking in these three men around her. She felt very small all of a sudden.

"How you doing Bella?" Billy asked, his face even more wrinkled with obvious worry.

"I'm OK," she said. Even she wasn't convinced by the sound of her voice.

"You ready to go home?" Billy went on, rolling closer. He'd put a hand on the table by hers, inviting contact, but not demanding it.

She shook her head, startled by the tears there and tightness in her throat. "Not tonight."

Billy let out a long breath. "I understand, and I'm sorry Bella. That's never happened before."

Edward snorted.

Billy shot him a look. "It hasn't. Not with Jake."

Bella nodded quickly. She was sure it hadn't. But it just had, with her.

"Dr. Cullen said I could stay with them tonight."

Now Billy's air reversed directions, and the look he shot Carlisle was accusatory.

"It's up to you, Bella," Carlisle reiterated. "I'm sure the Webers would be happy to have you too."

She knew this was said more for Billy's sake than her own.

"I think it might be a bit crowded there," she mumbled. Then to Billy, she said, tapping his hand with hers. "Just tonight, OK?"

Billy's face twisted at this. "If that's what you want. But you always have a home with us. Always. You're family. Just don't ever doubt that." He sighed. "I'll call you tomorrow, OK? If you need us to come get you or anything, just call. We'll come." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Sure."

Now BIlly looked at Carlisle. "You're not going to make her wait around to shift change, are you?"

"No," Edward answered for him, not quite glaring at Billy, but almost. Much more softly, he said to Bella, "I'll take you home." He smiled, and said, "Alice is excited to meet you. Everyone is."

Now the twist in her stomach lurched towards a nervous flutter.

Sue had come in quietly, and now helped Billy out, each of them stealing glances backwards as they left.

Edward didn't waste any time, sitting down beside her as Carlisle put things away. "May I?" he asked, holding out his hand for her arm. She let him lift it, and startled when he turned to his father with an indignant voice. "No local?"

It was Carlisle's turn to raise his eyebrows at Edward.

"Sorry," Edward murmured to Carlisle, and then Bella. "Why?" he asked her.

Right. Mind reading.

Her face tried on a few different expressions: realization, confusion, uncertainty.

"Oh," Edward said, nodding. "Of course."

She wasn't sure if she should feel relief, that there was no need to answer. What else had he heard in Carlisle's mind?

"Time to go home," Carlisle said, saving her from this quandary. He handed a piece of paper to Edward. "Can you pick this up for me?"

Edward nodded, holding his hand out for Bella.

The feeling of relief, that came with his touch alone, made so much of the anxiety melt away.

He was here. She was safe.

It was the most profound of sensations, and she gripped his fingers tightly, not wanting him to let go, as they walked towards the exit.

They stopped at the small pharmacy adjacent to the hospital, Edward efficiently collecting bandages, several bottles of pills, and the prescriptions Carlisle had written. She didn't even put it all together until they stood at the till, and she realized that Edward would have no use for these things: they were for her.

She patted her jacket pockets. Empty, except for her phone. She'd left her wallet in her bag.

"Don't even think about it," he murmured. "I put you with the Blacks. This is my responsibility."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the pained look on his face made her close it again.

In the car, she was finally free to say what had been ready to bolt from her mouth the minute she'd seen him: "Jacob's a wolf."

Edward didn't even bat an eye. "Jacob is a werewolf."

A werewolf.

"What happened?" he asked, looking at her.

"Can you just look at the road, please?"

He did, and she relaxed.

"What happened, Bella?"

"You knew. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I couldn't. Just like they couldn't tell you what I was. What happened?"

"Why couldn't you tell me?"

"We have a treaty. Neither of us can reveal the other to a human without violating it."

This explained a lot.

"What happened?" he asked again. There was no frustration in his voice, or impatience. It was reassuring.

"I told them about us—"

An abrupt creaking sound interrupted her, emanating from Edward's side of the car. It seemed to originate in the steering wheel. "Please continue," he said, looking at her and then back at the road.

"Jacob started to shake—and then he was a wolf." It still felt so impossible, even saying it aloud.

"He didn't try to move away?" Edward's voice had descended to a growl.

"No, he did, I just, I tripped getting away after Billy told me to move."

Edward's hand reached out for her left hand, the touch gentle. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"For putting you in the path of that."

"You're not responsible for everything that happens to me, Edward."

With the next glance she caught, she saw something in his eyes that made her forget to tell him to watch the road.

The rest of the drive wasn't long, but it took them down a winding and unlit road that was flanked by imposing trees. She would've missed the turn off completely, and almost jumped, when Edward veered to the right.

"It's fairly isolated, but it's worth the drive." His smile was small, but she took its reassurance.

They pulled into a large garage, and Bella caught sight of several cars, all of a quality whose expense was mind boggling.

Stepping into the house, Bella was struck by its simplicity, and quietness. The decor was sparse, but elegant, obviously curated by a professional.

"Hello!" A woman's voice called, the form appearing soon after.

"Bella, this is Esme, my mother."

Petite like Bella, Esme's brunette hair curled in a perfect wave at her shoulders. Her smile was radiant. It was almost as air-sucking to meet her as it had been to lay eyes on Edward. "It's so lovely to meet you after all we've heard from Edward." The smile stretched up to her eyes.

"Hi," Bella ventured less confidently, "nice to meet you too."

"Come on in, meet everyone," Esme said, waving her hand towards an open living room.

A small, and short-haired woman, just shy of Bella's height was suddenly before her. Bella startled, and Edward's grip kept her from losing her balance.

"Hi! I'm Alice!" She bounced a bit onto her tiptoes. "We are going to be such good friends!" She held out a hand for Bella to take, and when the gesture was reciprocated, shook it gently. "I'll behave Edward. Stop worrying."

Looking back at Edward, Bella caught his small frown.

From the couch, three other figures stood, moving much more slowly towards them.

"This is Jasper, Alice's husband."

A tall blonde man nodded in greeting, murmuring a soft "Hello."

"And this is my sister Rosalie, and my brother Emmett."

"It's lovely to meet you all," Bella said, trying to keep her jaw from dropping at the ridiculously beautiful creatures in front of her. It was mildly stunning seeing them all at once. A wave of nerves, at being compared to such beings swept over her.

Jasper raised an eyebrow at Edward, and Bella caught his head shake as it rippled down his arm to her hand.

Alice had joined her husband, pressing a hand to his arm. "I say ignore him," she stage whispered to Jasper's ear.

"Alice," Edward said in a warning tone.

A strange sort of calm washed over Bella, and she blinked, trying to place the familiarity of the feeling. When recognition clicked, a rising panic overrode the artificial sensation, and she could feel her heart jumping, breathing matching this accelerated pattern.

The unnatural feeling ended immediately, and it was by pure force of will that she didn't lose all control of her emotional state.

Edward let out a snarled "Don't!" towards one of his siblings, and it was angry enough to frighten Bella's hand out of his grip. Edward hadn't moved, but he was staring at Jasper, who looked shocked. Beside him, Alice's face was a mess of confusion. She peered at Bella, as if trying to puzzle something out.

Esme padded softly up beside Bella, murmuring, "why don't you come and have some tea in the kitchen?" Gently, she took Bella's now free hand, and settled her into one of the soft chairs by the window.

Edward had followed, and sat beside her. "Sorry," he began, "Jasper was trying to help, Bella."

Esme set a cup of something steaming on the small table beside Bella's chair, taking a seat a respectful distance away. "Jasper's gifted. Like Edward. He can alter moods—feelings." She smiled apologetically. "Useful, but not always helpful."

Bella was still shaking, either from what her body remembered, or from the shock of earlier in the evening.

Giant wolves. Vampires. And Vampires who messed with your feelings.

And not in a good way.

Held back by the thinnest scrim of willpower was all the muck that the counsellor had stirred up, and then sent her away to mull over. Now it seemed to hang over her, the weight of it pressing down on her already strained control.

She nodded, acknowledging Esme's words, but looked at Edward, hoping he could understand how desperate she was feeling.

It was Esme who spoke though. "It's late. You must be tired. Perhaps you can help Bella get settled in?"

Bella was thinking of more practical things. "I didn't really have time to get anything."

"I know," Esme smiled softly. "We keep things for just such times. Don't worry."

"I have school—"

"Not with that injury," Edward said, lifting his chin towards her arm. "You should rest it tomorrow. Let the stitches set." There was something more in his voice, that Bella couldn't place.

Meeting his gaze, things seemed to lighten, the ugly things not so pressing.

"It's Friday. One can get your work from school. Walk you through it too, if you want."

Or she could spend the day just looking at him, watching him talk.

She gave her mental head a shake, snapping her attention back to the logical present.

"Maybe," she offered. Maybe. This wasn't her home.

Her emotions, bouncing from all directions, slung her back to thoughts of the Blacks. Billy had been horrified, and she imagined Jacob was feeling much the same. It had been an accident. She'd have to watch what she said around him, clearly—

"Bella?"

"Mm?" she said, looking up. Had she missed him talking? The expression on his face seemed to suggest it.

"Let me show you around."

There was a flicker of a frown from Esme. This was not being shown to bed. Bella liked her. She was clearly so very maternal.

"Sure."

He held his hand out in offering again, and she took it, greedy for his touch.

"This is my room," he said, not going in, but letting her look, and then lifting his arm to point directly across the hall, "and this is for you."

This other space bore the marks of distinct character: personal items on the dressers, a large, but pristinely made king-sized bed, and walls thick with art that, if she didn't know better, could have sworn were original Pollocks.

"Is this—?" she began.

"Alice and Jasper's room."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," she said. "That's—"

"Completely fine. I assure you."

"But they need—"

"They don't need to sleep. You do."

She turned her head and looked at him, eyebrows pulled into a V. "They're night owls or something?"

Edward chuckled. That grin again, stretched and wide. "We don't sleep, Bella. We can't."

Bella's head swivelled back to the room, and the bed. "Oh," she said, blushing, looking at it, understanding what it's purpose was, then laughing. "Well that's...awkward."

Edward's laugh bubbled along with hers. "Awkward," he agreed.

Their hands remained linked. When their chuckles subsided, she said, "give me the grand tour of your room?" She wanted to know all its pieces, and ferret out more of an understanding of him through these tactile manifestations.

His answer was a tug in that direction.

Two of the walls were taken up by shelves. One was thick with books, and the other with his music.

Her hand trailed a tentative finger over the spines of the CD cases. "How're they organized?"

"By year, then by musical preference."

Most of them were classical.

This made sense, she supposed. How much he must have heard, she wondered, having lived so long.

There was no bed in his room, but a long black leather chaise lounge, wide enough to sleep on. She thought of his place in Seattle—with beds—and wondered what purpose those served. She almost shook her head, feeling urge to distrust rise.

He'd given her nothing but reason to trust him.

She trusted him. She repeated this in her mind, sealing it with the feel of his fingers over hers.

His bookshelf held many of her favourites, and more that she suspected might become so. Her right hand trembled now, touching the spines of these, and she sat down on the couch, thinking it would be better to do so voluntarily, than have her body compel it.

Her ribs ached, and now her arm did too. She dismissed these hurts, thinking on what he'd told her. "You can't sleep."

He shook his head, sitting down beside her.

She sighed. "I envy you that."

"Why?"

"Sleep hasn't felt so safe for a while—and it wasn't for a time." Her mind showed her the snapshots it had taken those weeks ago. She closed her eyes momentarily. When she opened them Edward's face was flexed with worry.

"What happened, that sleep doesn't feel...safe?"

She swallowed. "He said I could sleep. So I did. Then—" Her throat closed up, refusing the release of more words. She shook her head, tears starting at the corners of her eyes. She hadn't been able to give Rebecca—her counsellor, any specifics, either. It felt like her body couldn't let them loose. So everything hung over her, poised and waiting.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but you can. Anytime." His hand squeezed hers. "But Esme is going to kill me if I don't let you get to bed soon. Sleep, or no." He looked around his room. "There are lots of rooms—"

"Can I stay here?" she blurted out.

Edward blinked. "There's no—"

"The couch is fine."

He seemed to listen to something for a moment, then nodded. There was a soft knock at the door, and Alice was there, a bundle in her arms. "I think this should work." She smiled gently at them both, putting everything on the chair by the door.

Some time later, dressed in the night clothes Alice had left, Bella returned from the bathroom to find Edward's couch looking very bed-like.

"Thank you," she said, seeing his handiwork.

"You're welcome." His fingers threaded through hers, and they stood, facing one another. Then he let go of her hand abruptly, and instead brought his arms around her.

It felt so good to lean into his chest, and to then let her own hands match the shape his made at her back. It felt safe.

"Bella," he began quietly. "I cannot tell you how selfishly happy I am to have you here, and how equally unhappy I am about why you're here tonight." Their embrace slackened, and his eyebrows pinched together. "You don't have to go back there, unless you want to. We can find somewhere else."

"No," she said. "I...actually want to stay with them." She was trying to think of how she could explain that one tangible link they were to family, tenuous as it was. "Jacob must be feeling awful. He's been so good—Billy's been so good."

Edward's face told her he didn't agree, but he only nodded. "I should let you get to bed."

She bit her lip. "Will you stay? For a bit?"

"Happily," he answered, smiling widely.

She blushed, feeling silly for asking. "Just until I'm asleep—"

"You don't want me to stay after that?"

The blush rode higher. "I'm sure you have better things to do than watch me sleep."

"No."

Now her eyebrows lifted in frank disbelief.

"That first night," he said, "I thought I might hear your dreams, if not your waking thoughts, but I didn't. You do, however," he grinned here, "talk in your sleep."

Bella stifled a groan, wondering just what she would have said.

"You said my name."

"I did?"

He nodded, most solemnly.

"And then you almost fell off the couch several times."

She laughed. "That sounds like me."

"Mm." He gestured to the bed, and let her settle herself as he flicked off the lights.

She reached for his hand, as he sat down on the floor beside her, and pressed her fingers over it, trying to memorize the texture of it for her dreams, wanting to fill them with him, and displace all the regular occupants of her regular nightmares.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	19. A living stone

A/N for 2018-10-04: Sometimes, the writing is easy, and sometimes - gah, you're just not sure if your plot and development work at all. Your reactions and feedback always appreciated.

~ Erin

* * *

 **A Living Stone**

Edward had answered Alice's call only after getting Bella to her counselling appointment.

"Do I really _need_ to tell you that eavesdropping on her appointment would be a very, very bad idea?"

He'd snorted into the phone's receiver and then answered drily. "Thank you for your confidence."

"I have lots of confidence—except in your ability not to worry. Or be overprotective. I want you to be happy with her—and congratulations, by the way, I see things went well on that front."

"Thank you," he murmured, a little chagrined. Alice was his closest sibling, and she'd been the most supportive too. Not something to be taken for granted.

"She's really...tenuous, right now, Edward. Her future keeps...shifting. I don't know if it's because she's human, or what, but you need to be careful."

"Of course I'll be careful, Alice."

"I don't mean because of that, I mean—go slow. I know you feel protective, but that can be frightening for someone so young—especially after what she's been through."

"Can you see anything for the next few days?" he asked, hoping for some glimpse of goodness there.

"No," she said flatly, sighing. "It's...sporadic."

"And the other vision?"

She paused, as if she was checking. "Still there."

His teeth ground together audibly.

"Don't get mad at me. Just the messenger."

"I'm not," he sighed. "Just...frustrated. You know my feelings there."

He'd made himself leave the hospital, moving into the forest, hunting small game to keep himself distracted and occupied. When Alice had called him, several hours later, he'd only gone home to get the car, and then rush to the hospital to see Bella.

It had been a good thing that Jacob hadn't come with her. He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep the treaty after seeing what the mongrel had done.

An accident. He thought of Emily Young, and grimaced. He doubted any of the wolves would ever hurt a human intentionally. Still, intention had little to do with outcomes where adolescent werewolves were concerned.

In his few interactions with Jacob, he'd seen that the boy had sense and better control than most of his kind. That wasn't saying much. That fractional confidence had been the only thing that had kept Edward from changing his mind and running after Bella that night in Seattle.

Now she was sleeping on his couch, her hand loose in his grip. When she'd twitched and turned in her sleep, he'd simply moved to the other side of the couch, nudging her form gently, making sure she was comfortably centred.

There had been a few mumbled words, but nothing he could make sense of. Now she was into a long stretch of deep, and silent sleep.

Emmett and Rosalie had left the house, saying they needed to hunt. He knew it wasn't the real reason why, but he didn't want to press Rosalie for more of her ill will, so let the lie go. He doubted anyone else was fooled by her polite pretense. At least she was trying to keep the peace.

Alice's mind was busy attempting to make sense of the shifting visions related to Bella's immediate future. Edward listened uneasily.

One of these prescient moments arrived with startling clarity.

Oh.

His sister's thoughts held the shape of Bella's body. Its pose made an informative tableau.

Edward was beginning to understand why sleep didn't feel safe for her.

It didn't take long for the vision to become a reality. She woke with a choked sob.

"Just a dream, Bella," he whispered, "you're safe."

Her heart pounded, and her breathing shook. There was a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her eyes searched the space, landing on him. She jerked enough at this sight to make her jar her injured left arm. The air hissed through her deep breath, and her other hand flew to her ribs.

Still, he didn't move, afraid of frightening her more.

"Hurting?" he asked instead. Carlisle was home, he knew. He debated calling him, but worried it would only further startle or wake her.

"Bad dream," she muttered, more to herself than him.

"Yes," he said softly. "I can tell."

She was still breathing unevenly, her hand at her rib.

An idea clicked. "Would ice help?"

She nodded.

She didn't react when he sat beside her on the couch. He held his hand out, eyebrows up, thinking there must be enough moonlight for her to see by now. Her pupils were fully dilated, the brown of her eyes but a thin ring around them.

The shallowing of her breathing was the first sign of her distress. Then her her hand began to tremble on the couch.

"I'll go get some ice," he murmured, chastising himself for being so forward.

She said nothing, but pulled the blanket up over herself, scooting back, knees to her chest.

He was gone and back in seconds, the ice pack carefully wrapped in a small towel.

"Thanks," she said, reaching her hand out and taking it gingerly. Avoiding contact.

Pressing this new coldness against her ribs, she slid downwards, head back on the pillow. Then she reached out for his hand.

He was certain that the smile blossoming on his face was invisible to her in the darkness.

The shift in her posture brought more of her arm into contact with his.

"You're safe," he said again.

She breathed out an airy acceptance, and he watched the tight stretch of her shoulders ease. Her breathing slowed, and he heard the telltale signs of sleep returning. As she slid deeper into this state, he watched her body unfurl in this human rest.

If this wasn't a small piece of paradise in the mortal realm, he didn't know what was.

Her smell was more perfume than temptation now, and he luxuriated in it, his head tipped forward over hers, wanting to absorb every atom of it and store it away for when they would have to be parted.

She slept on through to the morning. He paid little attention to the view offered by the window. He knew it would be of scattered clouds and broken beams of light, because they were flickering over his exposed flesh, making the room shimmer with the refracted light. His eyes were squarely on Bella, certain she would wake soon. He worried for her reaction to this sight.

He needn't have.

When she opened her eyes, the sun had made a bolder appearance in the sky, and she blinked, squinting.

"Edward?"

"Mm-hmm." He didn't want to let go of her hand, but she was wriggling slightly, and he loosened his grip.

"Um, do you have a disco ball somewhere?"

He smiled, despite his worry. "No. That's just me."

She turned her head in his direction, and pulled in a sharp breath. He kept himself very still, trying to ignore the nervous clench in his gut.

Her finger tentatively traced his arm.

He'd expected her to jump, to be startled, to run, but not this.

"You're so...beautiful," she murmured, as if in awe.

Beautiful? Repulsive, cold, murderous—

"I feel so...ordinary next to you." She said it with a chuckle, but it made him draw in sharp and disapproving breath.

"No," he whispered. He slipped a hand to her back, helping her sit up. "You're...exquisite."

She blushed and chuckled. "I'm not feeling quite so exquisite right now, but maybe I'll go brush my teeth and feel a bit more like that."

"If it makes you feel better. Alice's left you some clothes in the bathroom."

She nodded, accepting his hand as she stood.

"I can get there myself." Her face remained a fetching pink.

He smiled gently, and let go of her fingers. It almost hurt to release them.

He'd had custody of her hand for most of the night. He knew the world saw it as a small intimacy, but it felt monumental to him.

Emmett's gently taunting thoughts were loud: _Bow-wow-chicka-bow-wow—nice, practically in bed on the first date. Sweet!_ He finished this with an audible snort.

Edward responded with a low growl.

He listened to the sounds of the shower, and wondered if Bella had remembered to keep her forearm dry.

When she returned to the room, one arm towelling off her hair, it was with a sheepish look. "I think this needs to be changed," she murmured, holding out her injured arm. The bandages were obviously damp.

From downstairs, Carlisle asked, _do you want to, or should I?_

"Perhaps Carlisle can take a look?" he said. He trusted his own expertise, but Carlisle's was so much more practised.

She nodded.

"Morning, Bella," Carlisle said from the living room.

"Morning," she replied, another blush creeping up her cheeks.

Why? Edward wondered.

As they walked towards Carlisle's study, she leaned closer to Edward. "How much, exactly, can all of you hear?"

"Everything for several miles," he answered.

"So, um...everyone will have heard everything we said? I said, upstairs?"

Ah.

"Yes," he said softly, "and no one will say anything about any of it, unless you bring it up."

She took a slow breath in, and then let it out. "OK." Her heart beat stuttered on nervously.

Edward grasped her free hand. "It takes some getting used to, I know, but everyone here cares about you, Bella. They'll respect your privacy."

Her eyebrows flexed together, but she nodded.

Carlisle cut through the old bandages, not touching, but looking at the stitching, and then taking in its smell. _All good,_ he thought.

"Seems to be healing well," he said to Bella, "but best to let it dry out."

Edward looked at him sharply. The cut had coagulated, but open, the scent of her blood was much more pungent, even drying.

 _Everyone's already left, Edward. They'll be back when I've bandaged it._

This was another shock. He hadn't even realized the absence of thoughts, or the sounds of their leaving, he'd been so focused on Bella.

 _Quite something, isn't it?_ Carlisle smiled mentally at him. _How a mate affects you?_ His eyebrow twitched up just slightly.

Quite.

 _Esme and I are going out too. The place is yours. Back in an hour to bandage her arm._

Edward let a small smile flicker over his lips.

Time alone was always a gift for him, as a mind reader, but to have it with Bella—and to be truly alone with her, was even more.

"Breakfast?" he asked her.

She was staring at the stitches in her arm, but gave him her eyes when he spoke.

"Maybe in a bit," she answered.

Edward frowned. She needed to take antibiotics, and those required food. He said as much.

"I'm...kinda squeamish. I don't do well with blood, Edward, and this—" she held out her forearm, not looking at it, "isn't helping."

He laughed. "Really? You don't do well with blood? In a house full of vampires?"

She laughed now too. "Ironic, I know."

He treasured this sound.

"Let me see if I can entice you," he said, kissing her good hand, and then leading her to the kitchen.

After some playful cajoling, he distracted her enough to eat, and even stomach the antibiotics Carlisle had prescribed. He had no luck with the pain medication.

He knew why, from the flicker in Carlisle's thoughts.

"You'll feel better with it, Bella."

She bit her lip. "I can't."

He felt a wave of regret. "Sorry," he murmured. "I just—I want you to be well."

"I know." She didn't hesitate to meet his eyes with her own. "I'm OK."

Carlisle returned after an hour to bandage her arm, but left almost immediately, his mind full of happiness at their seeming ease.

"Is it just me, or is everyone making themselves scarce for us?" Bella asked, watching Carlisle walk out the front door, dressed for work.

"They are," he confirmed, and seeing the uncertain expression on her face, added, "but it's actually for me."

She didn't say anything, but tilted her head slightly, inviting more information.

"Time without the noise of others' thoughts is always a gift. And considering Emmett is dying to make jokes about us at any given opportunity, the quiet is...appreciated."

"Ah," Bella said. "I wondered. He looks...mischievous."

"He is," Edward agreed, laughing. How wonderous it was, to be near her. Everything became easier—lighter. Even Emmett's tone-deaf humour could be enjoyed, rather than only endured.

They'd sat down for her breakfast at the kitchen table, and they were still there, her dish pushed to the side, facing one another, enjoying this simple conversation.

She reached up her hand, almost tentatively, and then pulled it part way back. "Can I?" she asked, moving it forward again towards his hair.

He was so thrilled by the anticipation of her touch, that he couldn't even say yes. He nodded instead.

Her fingers only brushed over the tips of his hair, but then grew bolder, parting it in five warm furrows.

He could feel every single follicle moving.

It was torture, keeping himself still.

Her thumb whispered over his forehead and then her hand settled, palm just at his ear, and cheek.

He didn't need to breathe so deeply, or quickly.

But he did.

She watched his face, and he remained still, as only his kind could.

"You're not a monster," she said.

How utterly wrong she was. He swallowed the venom that had pooled in this mouth, and waited until he was fully in control before he spoke. "I'd like to believe that, but doing so would be far too dangerous for you."

He pressed his hand over hers, so that his cheek and palm felt the thrum of her pulse between them.

Then she leaned forward.

Seeing what she intended, and not daring to move for fear of startling, or hurting her, he became a living stone.

But only momentarily.

The touch of their lips was a combustion all his years had never seen. Her flesh molded itself against his, the pressure light, and then harder, and then a weight against him.

He let his hands make a nest around the delicacy of her face. Her cheeks were hot from the blood that pooled there.

The desire to let go of all his control, and let loose the monsters shrieking for liberty inside, was sprouting and blooming and shooting up his spine.

And then he heard what his mind could not possibly ignore.

Cursing more creatures than could have cause to be involved in the disruption of this most desirable—and dangerous activity, he reluctantly pulled back.

Her eyes flew open wide, the look of remorse and shock on her face as plain as the daylight.

He kept his hands in place, a quick "sorry," on his lips. "Jacob's here."

"Jacob?"

He smiled, letting his eyebrows rise. "Your foster-brother?" The term would aggravate Jacob to no end.

Now worry crept between her eyebrows.

"He's coming to leave your truck, Bella. Nothing else." This wasn't exactly true. He was coming to check on Bella, to apologize, and to make sure she was safe. If he hadn't thought it would upset her, Edward would've snorted at the irony of the boy's intentions. He could also hear the barely contained jealousy that was throttled by the most tenuous control.

That _was_ worrisome.

He sighed, letting go of her cheeks. They had a moment before Jacob was at the house. "I'm not sure I have words to express my feelings for your gift."

It was its own sunrise, the colour creeping up her cheeks. He watched with fascination, hearing the sound of blood released to warm its northern limits. He knew now what such flesh felt like under his hand.

And he never wanted to stop feeling it.

"I've never done that before," she murmured.

His heart felt like it was singing. "Me either."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He shook his head.

"Ever?"

"Ever." He was grinning now. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes!"

"I'm honoured," he said, and then, because he could, traced the shape of another kiss over her hand, helping her stand up. He hoped Jacob Black would see the fullness their kiss had brought to Bella's lips, and know that there was no ambiguity in Edward's feelings or intentions.

He'd never felt so possessive in all his life.

Hands linked, they walked to the door. Jacob was only a few steps away when Edward opened it. There was no point in pretending he hadn't heard him coming.

Jacob's posture became stiff, and Edward tightened his hand over Bella's, ready to move her behind him if Jacob's control wavered any more.

"Hi," Jacob finally said.

"Hi Jake." Bella smiled a little. "You OK?"

Was _he_ OK? Edward frowned, looking at her face, then her arm, and finally at Jacob. He was glad to see the dog cringe a little.

"I'm fine, Bella. Thanks. You?"

"All good."

"Um, Dad asked me to bring you your truck, and your bag of school stuff." He held out her backpack.

No, Edward thought, your father read you the riot act and told you to get yourself here to apologize. And leave her the truck. A slight difference. Sam had sanctioned this. He let his eyebrows rise slightly, questioning the relaying of the message.

Jacob ignored him, eyes solidly fixed on Bella, jaw flexing, like he was thinking about saying more.

"Thank you," Bella said, biting her lip. "How're you going to get back home though?"

Jacob grinned. "You really have to ask?"

"Oh," she said, "in the middle of the day?"

He chuckled. "Not planning on running through town Bells. There's forest all the way back. Easy enough." His eyes met Edward's briefly.

Edward didn't need to read minds to catch the meaning there.

The Cullens were easily reached by Jacob's kind. Yes. He understood.

"I'll be home later."

"When?"

It was so abrupt it almost be rude. Not that Edward expected a boy of this age, or temperament to appreciate how much.

"Um—"

"We have dinner plans tonight," Edward reminded her.

"So long as you're not the meal," Jacob muttered.

This remark pulled a solid line of red up Bella's cheeks, and a wave of regret from Jacob's mind.

"Sorry," he sighed. "We're not exactly made to trust one another."

Bella's teeth weren't quite clenched, but close enough, when she spoke. "I don't need you to trust each other. I just need you to trust me." She glared at Jacob.

Edward stared at her, savouring the mixture of respect and delight in her fierceness.

"I'll see you later, Jake," she said, not unkindly, but firmly. He was dismissed.

Edward's attention for Jacob Black faded as soon as the boy was gone into the trees. He was too busy trying to guess at Bella's thoughts.

She was staring at the piano in the living room. "Who plays?"

"Me."

Her face blossomed with anticipation. "Would you play something for me?"

He would do almost anything for her.

"Of course."

He set her bag down by the bench, hoping she would join him, but she didn't, sitting in one of the dining room chairs, a few feet away. She rifled through her bag, and with a contented sigh, pulled out her journal.

Had she even had time to look at it yet? Doubtful, considering what had happened since they'd last seen each other.

She pinched the edges, alloting certain pages to one hand, the remainder to another, and opened it to a page that seemed to satisfy her. She sighed, and then brought a pencil to it, lifting her gaze to watch him, watching her.

"Will you?" she asked.

He nodded, turning and putting his hands to the keys. On the stand was the last piece he'd composed. He began playing, altering and embellishing as the notes moved him. Her pencil scratched a syncopated rhythm behind him, and he itched to know what she had laid on the page. He played on instead, listening to the intensity with which she worked. When the piece ended, he paused before turning around, hearing her sounds slowing too.

"Can I see?" he asked softly, turning his head just a little.

"Just a sec'," she mumbled, moving her hand rapidly over the page, dusting things off of it. "There." She turned it to face him.

He burst out laughing.

It was a stick figure.

She joined him, and then shrugged. "Sometimes it comes, and sometimes it doesn't." She put her sketchbook back in her bag. "That was beautiful, though, what you played. Who's that by?"

His shoulders mirrored hers. "Just something I wrote."

She paused in sitting back up. "This should not surprise me, but...it does. What other talents are you going to surprise me with?"

"Excellent tutoring skills." He looked meaningfully at her backpack. "I should let you get some school work done...or help you if you need it?"

"As much fun as it would be to have your help, I think it might be counterproductive." She sighed. "Though I could probably find somewhere to use your skills with physics."

So they spent the rest of the morning, he pretending to read a book, and she actually reading her own, pencil tucked alternately between her teeth, and her fingers.

He groaned quietly when her heard the rest of the family returning. The feeling was short lived, though. Bella looked happy, watching them return, smiling at Emmett's jokes, and accepting Alice's invitation to flick through magazines and talk.

Don't you dare! Alice hissed at him silently. You got her all morning. My turn!

When Bella's back was turned, he held his hands up in mock surrender to his sister, listening to their quiet chatter and laughter.

It felt so natural, and so happy to have Bella there with his family, the familiar ache and loneliness was so much sharper, leaving her to drive the last few minutes home.

"I'll call you when I get there," she said, as they traded spots in the truck. He'd suggested that he might drive the greater share of the distance, letting her arm rest.

She'd responded with an arched eyebrow, and a curt, "You really don't like my driving skills, do you?"

He'd denied any such thing, but did point out that he had superior reflexes.

Now he watched the tail lights rounding the last visible bend, and closed his eyes, inhaling the vestiges of her scent on his clothes, and in the air around him. He would need to find a way to be away from her. He just wasn't sure how. Finding a way to not have her leave seemed so much more preferable than this inevitable parting.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	20. No Secrets

A/N for 2018-10-08: Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, all, and thank you for your lovely comments on the last chapter. Enjoy!

~ Erin

* * *

 **No Secrets**

Billy was his usual self, Saturday morning, but Jacob was almost falling over himself to be solicitous to Bella. After he'd jumped up to grab her the milk at breakfast, which was somewhere along the umpteenth thing he'd tried to do for her, she blurted out, "Jake, I'm fine, really. We're good. I'm not broken, or upset, or anything—but you're freaking me out acting like you are."

"I'm—"

"Just sit down, please, OK?"

He returned himself to his seat. "If you say so."

"I say so. Trust me."

This made him flinch, and Bella regretted her choice of words.

Their "sorry's" were synchronous.

This made Billy chuckle.

"Look at you two old ladies, clucking around each other," he muttered from behind his paper. "Why don't you go do something today? Toilet paper someone's house or something. You're too worked up."

Jacob snorted at this suggestion.

Bella didn't think much of this either, but said, more politely than Jacob, "Think I'll keep my nose clean."

"Then go see Emily or something," Billy said, looking at Jacob. "Sue was saying there was something up with her truck."

"Yeah, I'll go look. Wanna come?" he asked Bella, his mouth full of food.

"Sure." She'd finished most of her school work. It would be nice to get out. She wanted to go see Edward, but it struck her as being too much too soon…overly clingy.

"Gonna be warm today. You be ready soon?" Jake asked.

Bella nodded, breakfast done.

The ride to Sam and Emily's place was short, Jacob's tools bouncing around in the back of the truck. The shock of the other night had worn off, and when she glanced at Jacob, he was still just Jacob. It was hard to put together him, and what she'd seen and felt that evening. She didn't try very hard to reassemble that memory.

When they walked into Emily and Sam's house, they found a substantial group already there—Paul, Leah, Seth, Embry, Quill and a few other, younger boys she didn't know, scattered around the kitchen and living room.

Jacob looked around nervously, and then at Bella.

"Glad your Dad reached you," Sam said.

"Um, no," Jacob said quietly.

"Finally in on it, hey Bella?" Paul called from the couch, smiling broadly.

Jacob shot him a dark look.

"Well she is, isn't she?" Paul threw back. "Gave her a nice enough scrape by the looks of it."

They all knew? Bella thought. Had she been the only one that didn't know about Jacob? About the others? Jacob hadn't told her who they were, and she hadn't asked.

"Shut it, Paul," he growled.

Paul snorted, but didn't say anything else.

"Least she didn't bring the leech along."

"Shut it, Paul!" Jacob hissed out.

Everyone else was looking uneasy now, including Bella. She took a step away from him.

As if this was her cue, Emily came forward. "Nice to have you here Bella. Come on. They're all going outside, aren't they?" She raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Sam.

He caught the glance, and nodded, jerking his head towards the door.

The room emptied of people, and when the door shut, Emily passed Bella cup of coffee.

"Why're they all here today? Some sort of meeting?"

"You could say that, yes." Emily paused a bit, lips pursed. "How's your arm?"

"Fine," Bella shrugged.

"Mm," she hummed. "And you?" Her intonation was light, but it suggested the disclosing than more than just her general well being. When Bella didn't reply right away, Emily pressed on. "It's just...it's frightening when it happens."

Emily's scars took on a whole new meaning.

As did the group of people in the house.

She had to pause for a moment, putting words together in her head. They weren't quite all lined up properly when she spoke. "Did—?" It would be rude to ask, she realized. "Are they all—?"

"Sam did, yes," Emily answered her softly, tracing a finger down one of the lines on her cheek. "And yes, they all are." She jerked her chin in the direction the boys had gone.

Like it had been timed, a snarling set of growls erupted outside, and both women whipped their heads towards the sound.

"Wait," Emily said, when Bella went to stand. "They'll be fine. We're….less durable."

She didn't need the reminder. Her arm throbbed, but she worried for Jake's sake.

The snarling and yipping sounds died down, and a few tense minutes later, Jacob stomped into the house wearing far less than he had been when they'd gone outside. He looked angry. He was clutching his forearm.

Bella turned her head away after she caught a glance of it.

"Oh God, Jake, you need to go to the hospital—"

"No," Emily said, voice calm, "he doesn't. He's fine."

Bella was still staring at the floor.

"Look again, Bella," she called to her.

"I'm really not good with blood."

"There isn't any."

Bella made a derisive sound. "I'm good—"

"There's no blood, Bella. Look."

Something in Emily's voice made her dare to look up.

Jacob still looked angry, but this was lessened by the worry in his eyebrows. He was watching Bella, one hand slapped casually over what had been a gaping slice through the length of his arm—a more profane cousin to the one she had on her own.

Now it was just an angry red line, the flesh all knit together, as if it were weeks old.

"How—?"

"Werewolves heal quickly," Emily explained. "Unlike us." She looked at Jacob shrewdly, "you trying to teach Paul a lesson again, Jake?"

He snorted. "No point. Nothing takes with that idiot."

"That why you keep trying then, hmm?"

"They're heading out," he muttered. "So I'll look at your truck."

"Thank you," Emily offered politely.

Pushing off from the counter, Jacob launched himself into a determined walk back to the door, closing it roughly as he went.

Emily snapped her eyes back to Bella when he left. "He's worried about you."

"Hear that's going around," Bella quipped. She didn't need anyone's pity or sympathy.

"Not because of what happened in Seattle."

An angry flush swept up her cheeks. She'd never expected it to be private, but she'd hoped some people would at least try to be discrete.

"More the company you're keeping now."

Ah, yes, this prejudice. It seemed well ingrained.

"I'm fine."

Emily looked at Bella's forearm, and the small shake in her hand. It came and went at will. Bella clamped her fingers around the coffee cup.

"They're not safe, Bella. Don't fool yourself into thinking they are."

And with that, Bella had had enough of Emily's nose in her business.

"Think I'll go give Jake a hand with the truck."

Emily flicked an eyebrow up, but then shrugged. "Feel free to come back inside if you get bored. I won't pester you with repeating myself."

In the garage, Jacob was bent over the engine, hood up on Emily's truck one hand holding a light, the other fishing for something amidst the indiscernible parts.

"Want me to hold that?" Bella asked.

"That'd be great," Jacob said, smiling a little when he saw her there. "Thanks."

He worked quietly for a bit while she held the light, muttering and then making gratified sounds when he found something long and snake-like.

"Did you have a fight with Paul?" Bella asked.

Jacob made his favourite soun—a snort.

"No, not really. More just lost my patience with his lack of brain-to-mouth filter."

"Yeah Jake, most people call that a fight."

"Sure, sure. I prefer 'attempted filter installation'." He fiddled with a screw-like object on top of a dome by the windshield.

"What did you fight about?"

Jacob put his tool down, and took the light from Bella's hand. His fingers felt hot where they brushed hers.

"He's…" he sighed, and then gestured to the bench along the wall, inviting her to sit with him.

"He's just talking what a lot of people are thinking...but are too polite to say in front of you."

"Oh? And what are they thinking?"

"They don't like that you're spending time with the Cullens. And they really don't like that you're seeing one of them."

Her eyes narrowed. More of this. "And how do they know that I'm seeing one of them Jake?" Something felt like it was snarling in her stomach, hot and distempered.

He sighed. "Not by choice."

"What the hell does that mean? What, your tongue just up and spat my business out all on its own?" She stood, taking several angry steps away.

"No! I'd never say anything, Bella."

"Then how do they know, Jake? I don't think your dad is blabbing it around."

"It's not a choice—"

She snorted. "Sure, someone _made_ you say something." She hooked her fingers around the words.

"I didn't _say_ anything—" He spoke this through clenched teeth.

"I'm sure you just shared it telepathically then!" She spat the words out.

He stared at her, and then said, "We can't keep secrets, Bella. They just—there's no keeping anything private."

"That's the worst excuse—"

"We hear each other's thoughts."

She looked up at him.

"No, not like your...not like him. Just us, just between us. And only in our wolf forms."

Bella sat down again. "How—?"

"We hear and see each other's thoughts—everything that we're thinking. It's hard to keep things separate. I really tried, Bella, with everything, but it just took one slip and then Paul—" He put his face in his hands. "I'm really sorry. Really."

This explained so many of Paul's comments.

"So they would've seen what I looked like—when you brought me back."

"Yes."

She didn't so much as sigh, as let the air leave her lungs. It felt worse, somehow, knowing they'd see it, instead of just hearing about it.

"We all try to respect each other's boundaries."

"Sure."

After a moment, Jacob spoke again, but quietly. "Emily's right, Bella. They're not safe."

"You don't think there isn't a certain irony to you saying that, Jake?" She arched an eyebrow at him, glancing at her forearm, and then back up at him.

His answer was soft and dangerous. "I've never killed anyone, Bella, and I know their kind have. We protect people."

"Sure, Jake." The 'whatever' was inferred.

"They kill people, Bella."

"The Cullens don't. You wouldn't have a treaty with them, if they did."

"Don't think our treaty makes them special, Bella."

She shook her head. "Fine." There was no point in trying to convince someone who was so prejudiced. Standing, she felt Jacob's hand grab her fingers.

"You're their natural food source, Bella. You can tell yourself anything else you want, but don't ever forget that."

This was just feeling cruel now. She yanked her hand away, and was moving towards the garage door when Jacob's words reached her.

"They killed your Dad."

She stopped. She knew she couldn't have possibly heard him correctly, but she turned her head to ask him, anyway. "What?"

"Your Dad. He didn't die in an animal attack, Bella. It was vampires. We know, because we found him."

"The Cullens?"

"God no, you think they'd be alive if they had?"

It was as if the sinews of her midsection snapped. She felt partially detached from her balance, the ground, and the notion that the world was real, not some cruel experiment she was the star rat in. "When were you going to tell me?—Wait, were you ever going to tell me? Or just saving it to fuck me up with?" The cadence and volume of her voice rose over these questions.

She didn't wait for his answer.

Jamming her key into the ignition of her truck, she heard the dirt and rocks spray as she reversed out of Emily and Sam's driveway.

If Jacob's voice called after her, she didn't hear. She was too focused on the road, and the blurry tears she saw it through as she drove west.


	21. Everyone but me

A/N for 2018-10-11: Odd, you know, but I have a lot of empathy for Jacob - but from your reactions, I am obviously not writing him in a way that displays this! I feel similarly for Bella, who is starting to edge out of mentally defensive crouch she's been in. Other expressions of trauma and recovery coming soon.

Thank you, as always, for doing what you do best: reading, reacting and reviewing.

~ Erin

* * *

 **Everyone but me**

She kept trading hands on the wheel. One would come off and wipe her eyes, and then the other would take its twin's place, and so she drove, a series of ineffective swipes smearing wet feelings across her face.

She was about fifteen minutes from Forks when the singular, but distant figure came into sight on the road's shoulder. Its form was unmistakable, and she pulled over. He was in the truck before she next blinked.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sliding his hand under hers.

She almost laughed. Almost. A vampire killed my father? The tears were refreshed by this thought.

"Bella?"

"My Dad. He didn't die in an animal attack."

"No." He said it quietly.

Her hand felt colder, and not for his touch. "You knew?"

He nodded.

After a moment, she said quietly, "Everyone knew. Everyone but me." She closed her eyes and wondered what else she'd find scuttling under what felt like the ground. "Were you going to tell me?"

"Yes, when we found the responsible parties."

Her face had been twisting in frustration, but now it froze, and she glanced up. "When—?"

"When we kill them, Bella."

Her face seemed to fold in on itself, and she sucked in more air. "You're going to—"

"Offer you justice."

She sputtered out the next words. "Justice? You just said you're going to _kill_ them. You didn't think that maybe you might ask me what _I_ wanted?"

"They're not human," he muttered, as if this explained it. Then, frowning at her, "Do you want them to live?" He was utterly serious.

"I don't know." The hand that remained on the wheel trembled. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice shook.

"Because it would have been cruel, Bella. It wouldn't give you back your father, and it would only give you more to grieve for."

She pulled her hand away, but he reached for it again. "I'm sorry for not telling you. Please let me show you that I mean that. Please."

Breathing in and out for a few minutes, she reminded herself of the balance of things their relationship had been, of all the good that he had wrought not just for her, but within her, too.

"You can't keep things from me, Edward. I can't—I need to know. Is there anything else? _Anything_?"

He shook his head. "There isn't, and if there is, I'll tell you."

"Do you know what happened to him? My Dad?" Her tone asked for more than generalities.

He didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, it was slowly. Carefully. "Yes. There was a nomadic pair that came through here." Seeing her look, he explained. "It's rare for our kind to stay in an area so long. Most travel widely, and rarely stay in the same location. We're unique that way. So, when others come, they know by scent that we're here. You could say it attracts them." He looked at her, and from the pained expression he was holding in a fine balance, she understood the unspoken message.

"You feel responsible, for my Dad."

"We are responsible for his death, Bella. They wouldn't have come here if we hadn't been here."

"Maybe," she muttered.

"Maybe?"

"You can't know."

He shook his head. "Carlisle and Esme warned them off, and they did go to leave, but hunted on their way."

"My Dad."

"Yes." His clenched his jaw shut.

She thought sometime about her next question. Her voice was quiet when she asked. "Is it painful? To die that way?"

Edward's eyes closed, and then he nodded. "Usually, yes. Bella, I'm sorry, we—"

"It's OK. You can't stop all the bad things, Edward. People die—most not nicely." She had troulbe sucking in her next breath, not quite a sob, thinking of her mother, and Phil, and now Charlie.

He moved to touch her and she put up her hand in refusal.

"I know that bad things happen, Edward, and that trying to hide from that knowledge only makes things worse. I cannot be with someone who tries to protect me from that. Do you understand?"

His face was all seriousness. "I understand. I won't keep anything from you." Now his other hand came to rest in her hair, his thumb brushing her cheek. "How did hear about this?"

She sighed, trying to let the bitterness out with the air. "Jake told me."

"Not kindly, I take it."

"No," she said, "it came on the heels of a warning to stay away from you."

"I'm not surprised."

"Why are things so bad between you and them? You have a treaty—"

"The treaty prevents war, Bella, but it doesn't make trust, or erase bad feeling. Our presence is not benign for them, and our latest arrival altered things in ways we had no way of knowing."

"How?"

"The wolves. They only change when we're a threat to them. Jacob's father never did, and Jacob never would have, if we hadn't been here. Sam never would have." He looked at her meaningfully.

"Emily." She understood.

"There's more to it than that, Bella. I'd prefer not to say. It's personal, and I only know because of my abilities."

Despite the curiosity she felt brewing, she only nodded. She knew what it was to have secrets that wanted keeping. "I understand."

"Jacob," he went on, "is young, and impulsive. I don't doubt he's already regretting the way he told you this."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you defending him?"

"Hardly. Just hoping he's smart enough to apologize, and that you'll find it in you to forgive him."

"And why would that matter to you?"

" _Your_ happiness matters to me. You live with him, Bella. I want your...home to be a good one for you."

While she agreed with the sentiment, something about the way he said it made her wonder about his satisfaction with her current living arrangements.

"I 'spose so." She looked down, sliding her own hand up to join his at her cheek, leaning slightly into it. Closing her eyes, she took in the sweetness that was his own natural cologne. She could feel her body relaxing just smelling it. Turning her head, she pressed her lips to his palm. The taste wasn't so strong as it was on his lips, but there was the promise of cinnamon and anise, vanilla and honey.

Her head was suddenly cradled between his hands, their lips pressed together. She had to remember to make her lungs contract and expand, a forced repetition that only wanted to end, and leave all her energy for the magic his lips were conducting.

Traversing the line of her neck, shoulders, and back his hands reached the width of her hips, and slipped her onto his lap, their legs perpendicular to each other.

He was better than breathing—on this, both her mind and body seemed to agree.

So when his hands gently, but with a force she could not possibly resist, pulled her away, the air returned in large, and unsatisfactory gulps.

"The sheriff has just pulled up behind us."

While her mind understood that these were words, they didn't quite catch the significance of them.

"Bella?" Edward asked.

"Hmm?"

He slid her onto the seat beside him, rolling down the driver's side window where he now sat.

When Sheriff Mark Barclay's face came in view, Bella felt like she was surfacing from an ocean she only wanted to submerge herself in again. The air around her felt cool against her flushed cheeks.

"Morning. License and registration, please—no, not yours, Bella," he said, watching her reach for wallet. "Yours." He looked at Edward, and not kindly.

Edward pulled out his wallet and handed over his license, and then the registration that Bella fished from the glove compartment.

"You're not insured for a secondary driver, outside your household, Bella."

"He wasn't driving." This was technically true. He hadn't driven her truck _today_.

"Oh?" He looked pointedly at where Edward sat, and then more shrewdly at Bella.

Her hand went to her hair, pushing it back behind her ear, uncomfortable under his gaze. She was trying not to remember the last time she'd seen him. Stuffing her hands beneath her legs, she hoped no one noticed the tremble in them. She could see the handcuffs at his waist, shining dully under the overcast sky.

"We were just talking, officer," Edward said smoothly.

"Talking. Sure," Mark said, "hadn't heard that term for it yet—can I talk with you privately, Mr. Cullen?" Mark pushed himself back from the window, and made space for Edward to get out.

"Certainly."

They stepped away from the car, their backs to Bella.

She couldn't hear all the words, but she could hear enough.

"She's been through a lot, and it doesn't fill me with confidence to find her with a man three years her senior, pulled over by the side of a nearly deserted road. You're pushing the limits for consent—"

The shake in her hands ended abruptly. Her ears rang with anger.

The passenger door thumped against its hinges when she banged it open, snapping back painfully against her injured arm as she got out. She didn't feel it.

"Are you kidding me?" she hurled at Mark. "You yank him out of the car to talk statutory rape, when you cuffed me after _I_ told you I'd been forced into prostitution? You wouldn't even believe me when I told you, but you're hassling him because we're sitting here TALKING?"

The rest of what she said wasn't as clear, the ringing in her ears filling the space in her head.

What brought her back to words, and hearing, and logic was a cold hand squeezing hers. Edward's voice seemed to operate a frequency that pierced all the rage she wanted to keep yelling at the sheriff.

"Bella, let's go." His grip became a pronounced force of gravity, slowly pulling her towards her truck.

Her mouth was still moving. There were sounds uttering from it.

Mark's face looked pained and confused to her. His mouth moved, but she couldn't catch the words he spoke. Then he turned and walked away back in the direction of his squad car.

On the passenger side of the truck, Edward turned her into his body, wrapping his arms around her.

Her mouth had stopped moving now.

"You're safe, Bella. Nothing bad is going to happen to you."

"No," she mumbled. The tremble in her voice made it sound like two syllables.

"You're upset, and you have every right to be," he murmured. "How can I help you?"

It took her some time to find words again. "Let's go somewhere quiet."

"OK," he said softly, and held the door for her. When Mark's car moved away, he watched it reach, and then slide over the crest of the small hill before sitting down on the driver's side.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	22. Someplace Quiet

A/N for 2018-10-14: A little bit of canon. A little bit of not. Enjoy!

~ Erin

* * *

 **Someplace Quiet**

She'd calmed down by the time they reached the end of the road he'd taken off the highway.

"Where're we going?" Her voice felt, and sounded hoarse.

"Someplace quiet," he said. Handing her back the keys to her truck, he looked up her and down, frowning slightly.

"What?"

"You're not dressed for hiking."

"No," she said, looking down at the sandals, shorts and t-shirt she was wearing.

"Not a problem," he murmured. Turning his back to her, he held his hands out. "Hop on." He looked back over his shoulder.

"You want to give me a piggyback ride?" Both her eyebrows shot up.

HIs face broke open in a grin. "Something like that. Trust me."

Trust him.

She trusted him.

Coming closer, she hooked her arms around his neck, and he caught her legs under his hands. "Hold on tight," he warned her.

The world became a blur. A horrifying, terrifying slipping past things that left her shaking and trembling when he stopped.

"You can get down now, Bella."

She didn't let go.

"Bella?"

She couldn't let go.

His hand let go of her leg, and came up to her arm. He repeated this action with the other, detaching her, and turning her to face him.

"Just a sec," she whispered, closing her eyes, leaning into his chest. The world was still stubbornly moving.

"Talk to me, please." He sounded worried.

"Dizzy."

"Maybe next time, you should close your eyes?"

"Next time?" She looked up at him in alarm.

His grin was dazzling. "It's about a two hour hike back to your truck. I'm game if you are."

She closed her eyes again, "Oh my God."

"I'm immortal, but not Deific."

She snorted out a laugh, and an answering chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Come see," he said, lifting his chin towards the diffuse light that filtered through the thinning trees.

As they moved into the open, Bella gasped. It was a clearing—a meadow, full of flowers: large swaths of colour that held old friends—scarlet paintbrush, wild honeysuckle, and the distinct bells of blue rainflowers. A rush of tears made her breath catch. These were the flowers she most associated with her time with Charlie. When he would fish in the river, he'd send her out with a field guide and whistle, telling her to call when she found some interesting specimen. She never bothered with the critters, but the blossoms were her finds. He'd encouraged her to start drawing them, and the love of pencil over paper had grown from there.

She'd never seen so many of the flowers in profusion, all together.

"It so beautiful." There was a tightness in her chest, and she bent down, fingering a columbine that hung delicately.

He didn't say anything, and she was grateful. Instead, he sat, legs stretched out, hands beside him, watching her pinch at various stems, collecting a small posy. When she returned to sit alongside him, she wrapped the stems together in a strand of dry grass, holding out the tidy bundle for him to take.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking at her, head slightly tilted. "Do you know their names?"

She nodded, murmuring through them as she touched the individual specimens. Her voice was still husky. "They don't keep long, unfortunately."

"I'll remember them long enough," he said softly.

Something about the way he said it made Bella wonder at the meaning beneath it. "Is there some significance I've missed here?"

"No." He smiled. "We just...remember things more easily, or rather, don't really forget things."

"Ever?"

"Not really, no. Our human memories fade, but the ones in this life are permanent."

"You mean you have perfect recall?"

"That's one way of putting it."

She considered the implications of this. "Do you remember much of your human life?"

"A little. My mother, a few memories I recalled in my early years, but most of it is gone."

"I'm sorry," Bella said, glad of her own, that Renee and Charlie were so clear in her mind's eye.

"It's alright," he smiled, taking her hand, sitting up. The posy was carefully tucked into his shirt pocket. "There hasn't been much worth remembering until now."

Her heart stuttered. He couldn't mean that

His fingers brushed a hair away from her cheek. "You doubt that."

"Well, I suppose watching me cuss out the local law enforcement is pretty memorable."

He didn't laugh. "You were within your rights, Bella." His face was serious. "Not that I blame him for stopping. He recognized your truck. He feels guilty for failing you, and your father."

"His efforts were misplaced," she gritted out.

"Yes, but he couldn't know that without checking." Then a slow grin spread out over his face. "And he was right. The age difference is considerable. And...we weren't _just_ talking."

She rolled her eyes, but then pinched her eyebrows together. "When _were_ you born?" She wondered if he would tell her now.

"1901. Chicago."

She sucked in an awed breath. "You've seen so much."

"Some, I suppose. I'm young, compared to Carlisle."

"How old is he?"

"Over three hundred years."

Her mind boggled. "And the rest of your family?"

"Most of them are a little younger than me, but Jasper is a bit older."

She tried to hold onto just how much they would have seen, and learned, in all this time together.

This brought her to another thought. "Are you still in school?"

"I am, but on leave for now. My courses were mostly wrapped up when I met you."

"So you're not missing anything, being here?"

"I am definitely not missing anything worthwhile, being with you, no."

They'd moved closer, and now their lips lost the air between them, joined by mutual feeling, and uninterrupted by the inference of others.

The world seemed distant when she was with him, her hands tracing the shape of his face and hair, burying themselves in its softness.

When he pulled himself away, she moaned, wanting more, her body protesting the loss of his closeness.

Then he was at the edge of the treeline, and she lurched forward with the loss of his counterbalance.

"Edward?"

"Just give me a moment, please," he called.

She waited, trying not to show her anxiousness. What had she done wrong?

His return was as sudden as his disappearance. "I'm sorry. I need to be more careful around you."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "I just—I can't lose control around you, Bella. Ever."

"Are you...in control?"

"I am now, yes. It's—" he breathed out. "When I'm with you, everything I do is so very carefully calculated. It would be so easy to slip, to use just a fraction too much strength—crushing your bones instead of simply touching you." His eyes were full of a nervous apprehension. "I would understand if you changed your mind, if you—"

"No." She put her finger to his lips. "I trust you. I think you don't give yourself enough credit."

He returned his hand to her cheek. "I'm trying to be worthy of it."

"So far, so good." There were mutual smiles now.

They lost themselves in more conversation, exchanging their small secrets and hopes, passing hours in the sweetness of the meadow and its flowers. When her stomach growled, Edward sat up. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think about how hungry you must be."

"It's OK. I don't mind." She looked at her watch, and bit her lip. "But I should probably call and at least tell Billy where I am." This thought was heavy in her gut.

"What is it?" Edward asked.

"I'm just wondering what else they haven't told me."

His jaw tightened.

She caught it. "There is more, isn't there?"

He looked away. Reaching to the side, he plucked one of the stems that had reached out of the shade for light, its long neck weighted by a heavy, bobbling head. His fingers snapped it neatly, twirling the weight on the oozing stem. "There's a fine line between what is kept, and what is private, Bella. I don't often talk about other people's business, because it's very hard for me to keep straight what they've said, and what they've thought."

"And you've heard something in Jacob and Billy's thoughts?"

"I've heard many things in their thoughts that I'm sure you don't know, and don't need to know."

"That is the most evasive piece of bull I've heard from you yet."

His head was still pointed partway down, but his eyes met hers. "I don't think there's anything that I should tell you, no." She opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke before she could. "Really, Bella. If it was important, I would, but you should ask them if there's anything else you need to know."

She set this frustration aside, nodding, accepting he wouldn't say. She knew enough of him now to see that.

"But I think we should find you something to eat."

"OK." She stood, and then watched him turn his back to her, hands outstretched.

This time was not so dislocating as the first, and they were at her truck in minutes.

"Maybe I should drive?" he asked softly, watching her wobble on two feet.

Edward's house was full when they arrived this time.

"Hi Bella!" Alice called, appearing at the entranceway, "We have lunch ready for you."

"Oh, thank you," Bella said, a little taken aback by this abrupt greeting.

"Not everyone is used to having someone prescient around, Alice," Edward scolded her.

"So says the mind reader." She rolled her eyes at her brother. "Come on!" Her hand pulled Bella's good one forward towards the kitchen.

With a backward glance to Edward, Bella followed Alice, he staying close behind.

In the kitchen, Carlisle and Esme were sitting in the chairs by the window, chatting. In the distance, Bella saw Jasper and Emmett playing a game in the living room. There were quiet greetings called out, which she returned. It seemed all very...normal. And yet, not.

Rosalie walked by without so much as a glance in Bella's direction, lips mumbling something her human hearing couldn't catch. Everyone around Bella stiffened for a minute, and then seemed to relax. Emmett got up and followed his wife out of the house.

As quietly as she could, Bella asked Edward, "Did I do something to offend her?"

"No." He leaned forward over the table where she was sitting, her sandwich and soup so far untouched. "She's...upset about something else."

"Something to do with me."

He didn't deny it.

"You're not responsible for how Rosalie feels, Bella," Alice said softly. "We don't often interact with humans—not so intimately." She smiled, almost apologetically. "This is taking some getting used to for all of us. Rose especially."

Bella's appetite disappeared, and she turned her next question to Edward. "Is it hard for her to be in control, because I can leave—"

"No, it isn't that. She's afraid that _I_ might not be in control, which would cause problems for all of us."

Oh. Yes, that made sense.

"Or if you say something, and reveal our existence."

"I would never—"

" _I_ know that. _We_ know that. But Rose is...less certain of humankind."

Bella looked down. "I can relate."

There was another awkward pause, and she wondered what she'd said to cause it.

"But you should eat, and then call Billy," Edward said. His eyes smiled. "Do I get to hoard your company for the rest of the day, or are you bound elsewhere?"

"No plans, no."

"Good."

Alice clapped her hands together. "Excellent! Hey, Edward says you draw—is that true?"

"Yeah, I do a bit. Haven't lately though."

"I draw too. If the mood strikes you we have lots of supplies here."

"Thank you," Bella murmured.

"Does applying makeup really make you an artist, Alice?" Edward's smirk was playful.

"You like living dangerously brother," Alice quipped back.

"Just a bit."

When Bella was finished lunch, having enjoyed the back and forth between Edward and Alice, she phoned Billy, only telling him she'd be home later.

"Saving the difficult conversation for later?" Edward asked her.

"Yes. Not something I want to do on the phone, no."

She'd stood by the entranceway to call her foster-father, putting the phone back in her pocket. Edward pulled her close. "Alice wants to go play dress up with you." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully towards the stairs. "Unless you have something you'd rather do?"

She laughed silently and mouthed a desperate "an-y-thing else," to him.

He responded by picking her up and carrying her up to his room at a speed that left her gasping and giggling.

Edward pulled out a CD, tapping it in the slot of his stereo. The strains of an old song—or one that was old to Bella, filled the room.

"My mom used to listen to this."

Edward came to her, putting one hand at her waist, the other taking her good hand.

"What are you doing?" Bella asked.

"Dancing with you."

"Oh, no, I don't—" and she went to move away.

"You don't have to," he laughed, and put one of her hands at his shoulder, taking the other. Then he lifted her onto his feet, and began moving them around the room. It felt like she was floating, and her smile made her cheeks blossom with a lightness and happiness that she hadn't felt in a long time.

They moved this way until the song bled into another one, and then he took possession of her face with his hands, and her lips with his.

When it ended, he didn't pull away, but let their foreheads be tipped together.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who's greedy for that."

"Greedy is the right word," she agreed. More softly she asked, "Did you stop for a reason?"

"No." He shook his head.

"Why?"

"Wasn't sure if we were going to have a well meaning adult interruption." She felt silly, saying it.

Edward chuckled. "Hardly. Esme is so happy for me she's threatened all my siblings with dire consequences if they so much as think of bothering us."

Bella chuckled. "Good to know. No interference."

So they spent the remainder of the day, talking between kisses and laughter, discovery and touch.

When he got out of her truck at the boundary line, and she pulled away after he'd kissed her one last time, she felt like some invisible elastic stretched between them, pulling tighter and tauter as she drove away, not snapping, but wanting to draw them back together again as soon as possible.


	23. Drawn

A/N for 2018-10-19: Nice to see so many new readers - thanks for following along. And for those of you who leave your words, special thanks. Means a lot.

As for the story, I say this: Sometimes, getting better isn't so pretty. Certainly the case here for Bella. **  
**

~ Erin

* * *

 **Drawn**

Jacob wasn't there when Bella got home. She was glad for it.

Billy appeared to be forewarned, eyeing her warily as she came in the door.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Then there was an awkward silence.

She really wanted to yell at him. Tell him off for keeping what he had from her, but yelling at Billy...looking at him, hands folded on his lap, face placid, all the energy left her, and she was suddenly tired—feeling as wrinkled and rubbery as a deflated balloon.

Sitting down at the table, she mirrored his posture with her hands. "Jake told me about my Dad."

Billy sighed. "I know. He told me. You shouldn't have heard it from him, Bella."

"No, I shouldn't have. I should've heard it from you. A long time ago."

Here Billy raised an eyebrow. "Really? You think that would've been a kindness, do you? When exactly?"

"You—"

"Shoulda told ya when your Dad died?"

She shut her mouth.

"Or when I found you bought by a Cullen in Seattle?"

An angry blush stole up her face.

"Or when Jake sliced you up?"

"Before now, Billy," she growled out.

"I don't doubt it," he sighed, his aggression gone. "I'm sorry. I should have, yes, but I knew it wouldn't do you any good. Just make things worse again."

"The truth is hard to hear Billy, but that doesn't mean you keep it from them."

"Yes, Bella, it does." He looked hard at her. "I would know that better than you."

She went to open her mouth, but his words rode over her attempt.

"You don't think I didn't want to tell the people I care about to be careful, not to be on their own? Because I wanted to. And I couldn't. No plausible reason for it. All I could tell your dad—" His voice broke.

She swallowed, understanding. No, he couldn't have.

"What else?" she husked out. "What else is there that I don't know?"

"To do with what?"

"Werewolves, vampires, my Dad, anything else I need to know." Saying these words sounded so preposterous still, she almost laughed, hearing them roll off her tongue so naturally. Almost.

"I'm sure there's more that you don't know of the wolves, but I'll leave the telling to them," he shrugged. "You know as much as I do, Bella."

Edward had been clear. There was more. "Are you sure?"

His eyebrows knit together. "What are you asking, Bella?"

"Is there something that I need to know about you, or Jake?"

He didn't react until she said Jake's name, and then there was a flicker of something on his face.

"There is, isn't there?"

Billy didn't exactly scowl, but he frowned purposefully. "I'll speak for myself, Bella. Jacob can do the same." Then he pushed himself away from the table. "I'm going to get dinner ready. You hungry?"

Her teeth felt tight, pressed together as they were under the clench of her jaw. She'd been dismissed. "Sure."

As they worked together, hands coordinated where words were not, Bella thought over what Billy had said, wondering what Jacob would have to say.

\- 0 -

Charlotte lifted her chin to Bella's notebook, sitting where it'd been slapped. "You're upset, that you can't draw."

"Oh, I can draw just fine," Bella breathed out. "It's _what_ I want to draw that disturbs me."

"What is it you want to draw?"

"What happened to me."

Charlotte nodded. "I see. What would be bad about drawing that?"

Bella looked at the woman. She was middle-aged, plump, and dressed in jeans and a sweater. She looked far too comfortable to be discussing what they were talking about.

"About drawing me being fucked?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Can we talk about how you just described that?"

"I'm sure we will," Bella gritted out.

"Only if you want to, Bella."

After a moment, Bella hushed out a soft, "Sorry." She knew this woman was trying to help her, but the help twanged at strings that felt better left unsounded.

"It's fine." Charlotte shrugged. "I'm not offended."

Bella picked at a piece of lint on her shirt, and then put her hands, fingers spread out, over her knees. "I know. We talked about this. I get it. It just—I don't believe it."

"You won't if you hold onto those ideas. It's your choice, Bella, but I'd be irresponsible not to point out that you had no means to give consent. You were threatened and drugged. You were compelled."

"You'd think differently if you'd seen it," Bella said, reddening.

"Is that why you don't want to draw it?" Charlotte asked quietly.

Yes. That was precisely it.

"What would be the worst that would happen, if you did draw it, Bella?"

"You'd see that. You'd know you were wrong."

" _My_ not believing you would be the worst thing?"

"Not you, no. But it wouldn't help. Other people…" she shrugged.

"Does it matter to you, what others think?"

"They already think the worst."

"And Edward?"

Here Bella's jaw tightened.

"Not Edward, then?"

"Yes, I'm afraid of what he might think."

"You wouldn't have to show him, Bella. Drawing can sometimes just help, especially if you feel compelled to do so."

"There's also being afraid of people seeing them."

"Of course. Do you not have somewhere safe you can keep your things? A lock on your door?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust people to respect your privacy?"

She would have said yes to this about Billy and Jacob the week before, but now...when they'd kept the real cause of Charlie's death from her.

Edward had too, she reminded herself.

But he'd also promised to tell her anything she needed to know.

"Have you talked to Edward about what happened to you?" Charlotte prodded gently.

"I think he's probably figured most of it out." She'd been a whore. It didn't take much imagining.

"Have you told him?" Charlotte persisted.

Bella shook her head.

"It's natural to be afraid, Bella, but trust takes risks—and the benefits don't come without them. You might consider starting with something small."

"Like what?"

"The beginning of your story. What happened to you when you left here."

She doubted she'd need to. He'd likely gleaned it from the minds of those around her.

"It might help you to talk about it with someone you trust."

This felt like a small jab. Bella looked up at her counsellor. No, her face was placid. Not an insult. She hadn't exactly talked much with Charlotte, avoiding the gorier details as much as she could.

To her credit, Charlotte had not confronted her about this, accepting what she was offered, suggesting and prodding gently elsewhere.

"So are you going to try some drawing?"

"Sure." Why not?

\- 0 -

She'd used charcoal for her first rendition, putting to paper the image that haunted her most. This dusty work was housed in a wide sketch book she'd bought at the local dry goods store in Forks. She'd stopped there immediately after her appointment, spending more than she knew it was worth, but wanting the immediacy of the release. She hadn't even blinked at the price they asked for the pencils—three times what they were worth. The pages were thick, and vellum like. The charcoal meant a commitment to her drawing that forced her to think before she put it to the page.

There was a long break before English class and after history. Most students moved as a noisy group towards the baked goods offered at the cafeteria, but Bella preferred the quiet at the back of Mr. Mason's class. He ignored her, and she pretended he wasn't there. It was a mutually appreciated arrangement.

She hadn't drawn at school before, and certainly nothing like what she hid in her book now, but the first image that she'd poured onto the page had revealed another one under it in her mind. Too tired from exorcising the first, she'd put off starting the next one, but now, it was insistent, obscuring most other thoughts and pursuits.

Pulling the book out, she checked around the room. Alone, still.

Good.

It was easier to draw this one. His facial features were not so well defined, but her own was locked in an expression she saw repeated every night in her dreams.

She didn't even see the hand that pulled the book from her, but she did feel her stomach drop.

Mr. Mason snapped the pages shut as soon as he laid eyes on the drawing. Then he looked at Bella.

Nervously, she looked around. The room was full of people. Class had clearly started. There were notes on the board, and people were staring.

Had he been talking to her, and she hadn't realized?

 _Obviously_ , her alter ego snarked.

"I think maybe, you should go to the office, Bella." His voice was very quiet.

He waited for her to pack up her things, and then followed her out of the room, barking instructions behind him at the class. The office was a ways away, and he said nothing as they walked there.

Her stomach wobbled and clenched, doing somersaults in anxious anticipation.

In the office's carpeted interior, he gestured to the waiting area for Bella, where she sat, perched nervously on one of the chairs.

Then he disappeared into the principal's office with her book.

She was summoned shortly thereafter.

Her book lay on the principal's desk, far from his hands.

"Thank you Mr. Mason, I'll take it from here."

When her English teacher left, the principal looked at the book. "Those are some startling things you've drawn there."

She said nothing. She wasn't here to discuss her 'art'.

"I know some things happened to you, Bella, while you were gone, but you can't draw those here."

An angry flush swept up her face.

"You—"

"Fuck you."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me. Screw you and your prudery. I will draw whatever I want, wherever I want."

He blinked. "Bella, why don't you take the afternoon off—"

"So I can take my uncomfortable past somewhere else, so you can pretend stuff like this doesn't happen?"

"So you can deal with it, without worrying about being bothered." His voice was soft.

She grabbed her book and stood, walking out of the office, not caring what he said, or did, but needing air and space and acceptance she knew would not be found here.

She stopped at her locker to empty it, jumping when the bell for lunch rang, and students flooded out of the classrooms.

"Bella, what're you doing?" Sally's question disguised a barely screened accusation.

"Ditching for the afternoon."

"You don't look like you're just ditching." The worry was plain now.

Bella stopped putting things in her bag, closing the locker with a few books and binders still inside it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sally." She sounded tired to herself. Her hand was shaking again.

"You got lunch with you?" Sally usually brown bagged it. Bella did most of the time. Her own lunch, now probably squashed at the bottom of her bag, held little appeal.

"Um, sure."

Sally's hand was on Bella's. "Let's go outside." Her eyes were large for her face, and they were widened towards her friend. Her eyebrows were pushed together in deep concern.

Sally thought Bella was leaving—permanently. Kicking herself for upsetting her friend, Bella sighed. "OK."

It was sunny outside. They made their way towards the spot near where Edward had taken Bella, what felt like ages ago.

"Something happen?" Sally asked, as they sat on the grass.

"Yeah," Bella mumbled.

Sally didn't ask more, but bit into her sandwich. Their silence was comfortable.

After a few minutes of ripping up grass, Bella asked her, "do you see stuff? on repeat in your head?"

Sally put her sandwich down, nodding. "All the time."

Bella nodded too.

More ripping up grass.

"My counsellor said I should try drawing those images."

Sally's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, I know." She shook her head. "I got...lost, you know? In the memory...thought class hadn't started. Apparently it had. While I was drawing."

Sally's 'oh' was long, and airy.

"Teacher saw it, and sent me to the principal's office."

"Shit."

"Yep."

More silence.

"I told him to fuck off. And I'm pretty sure I said some other stuff I'll regret when he reminds me of it." She put her face in her hands. Sally's hand was warm on her back, making slow circles.

"Think he'll understand."

"You're optimistic."

"Not really," Sally murmured. "But people here have been kinder. Kinder than at home."

Bella squeezed her hand back. "Sorry. I know I'm whining."

"No, you're not." She chuckled. "Now Jessica, _she_ whines."

They both laughed, and when it ended, Bella felt a smile slip up her face. "Thank you—for asking me to come have lunch. It helps, to be able to talk about this stuff."

"Yep. Nothing like a fellow whore to make jokes with." When the next round of laughter faded, Sally went on. "Somewhere, somewhen, a comedian has made a top ten list of the worst parts of being a prostitute."

"Somewhen," Bella agreed.

"Number ten, shitty footwear."

Bella didn't have to think about the next one. "Number nine, even shittier underwear."

"Eight: shitty hours."

"Seven: crappy wages."

It went on.

"And number one," Bella pronounced, "shitty men."

Sally high-fived her.

Bella went back to shredding the grass beside her. "Not that I had my share of them."

"What do you mean?" Sally asked.

Bella swallowed, realizing she'd never told her. "There was only one, Sally, that first night."

A series of emotions travelled over Sally's features. "One?"

"Yeah. He was enough."

Sally swallowed and nodded, then stood abruptly. "Sorry, I gotta—" she didn't finish the statement, her feet carrying her away.

"Sally!" Bella called.

Her friend threw her hand back, palm up.

Bella followed anyway. She'd almost caught up by the time they reached the parking lot.

Principal Green stood between her and Sally's continued path.

"Not today, Ms. Swann. Come back tomorrow." His face was not unkind, but it wore a well rehearsed resoluteness. He lifted his chin towards the parking lot. "We'll see you tomorrow."

There were worse consequences for cussing out your principal than an afternoon off. Setting her worry for Sally aside she moved to her car, and then pulled out her phone.

"Bella," Edward's voice practically oozed out of the receiver.

"Hey, I'm um, unexpectedly free this afternoon. I was wondering—"

"Yes."

"I haven't even said what I'm proposing."

"If it involves you, I'm in."

"Great, let's go sky-diving."

She pushed her hair out of her face, and smiled at the sound of his laughter.

"Really?"

"No." Her voice wobbled with a half laugh, but her teeth pinched her lip. "Was wondering if you wanted to talk."

"With you, always. Where?"

"Your place?"

"Not today," he said softly. "Can I come to you?"

Bella's face fell. She wanted somewhere private to speak with him. "Oh," she said, brightening a little, "do you know where my Dad's house is?" She had a key.

"I do. Meet you there in a few minutes?"

"OK."

She wondered if what she planned was wise. Charlotte had counselled risk, and this felt like one. But if it brought trust, it was worth it.

If it didn't, though...

She stopped that thought, keeping her eyes on the road, mind thoroughly preoccupied with the thought of being with Edward.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	24. A surety of love

"How is it, being here for you?"

Edward sounded concerned—worried almost, to Bella.

"It's OK," she answered honestly. "I'd barely been here when he died. It's . . . " She shrugged. It hurt, but it was a lesser thing amongst what had transpired in the last few months.

His thumb circled over the back of her hand.

"You've been crying."

When she looked at him quizzically, he said, "Your tears have a particular smell."

Right. Senses beyond comprehension. She smiled a little, but nervously.

"Something happen at school?"

She sighed. "Yes."

"Were you invited to leave for the afternoon?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's one way of putting it."

"Hmm," he hummed, thumb still moving in faithful circles.

"My counsellor suggested I do a couple of things, one of which was draw."

"Good," Edward murmured. "You said it helped you before, when you moved to new places."

"It did." She bit her lip.

"It isn't helping now?"

"It has, sort of." She picked up the book she'd laid on the coffee table, bringing it to her chest. "She said I should draw what I've been thinking about—what I can't stop thinking about."

"And did you?"

"I did. And that's why I'm not at school." She smushed down the guilty feeling, at being so evasive with him.

Edward said nothing, but raised his eyebrows, waiting for more.

"I lost track of things. . . sketching at school, and then it was class time, and the teacher saw it."

"I see."

"You haven't, actually." Her throat felt dry, and her heartbeat too fast.

Edward moved his hand, tucking her hair behind her ear. "OK."

She swallowed nervously again. "I told you that I was messed up, Edward." She held up her hand a little, knowing what he was going to say. "And I know you think I'm wrong. I just need you to understand where I'm at."

He nodded, eyebrows pinched together.

"I don't think like normal people do, Edward. Not anymore. I think about—I think about things that I don't want to. I can't seem to stop them. They're just there. All the time." Her breath shuddered out. "When I go to sleep. When I'm at school. Everywhere."

"What do you think about?"

"I think about what happened to me." She was watching him from under the cover of her dropped eyelids, trying to be surreptitiously aware of what his face was doing. It was still pinched with worry, but nothing else. Not yet.

"I think you need to see what it is that I think about, so you understand what I really am. What I was." Her shoulders shrugged, as if this was of little consequence

She leaned forward, and putting her hand on the book, flipped it open to the page she'd drawn on that morning. She sucked in a breath as she did.

In the foreground was her face, pinched in pain, strained by fear, and something else, something even she couldn't name. Her arms were planted into the surface of a bed, and behind her, one hand at her hip, the other holding the lip of a belt that circumnavigated her chest, was a man, whose head was tipped back. His face was contorted in pleasure.

The act was invisible, but as clear as if she'd drawn every intimate piece of anatomy, and action involved.

And because she didn't want to look at him, or see the disgust that must be uglying his perfect features, she turned the page back, revealing the first drawing she'd made the night before.

Her head was at the top of the page, an outstretched arm disappearing off its margins. The lines of her face were tight with control, fear worn in the widening of her eyes. At her neck was a man's hand, thumb pressed into the bulge of her windpipe. He leaned over her. The position suggested a close, and unwelcome movement.

"This is what I think of, Edward." Her tone was its own condemnation.

She realized that Edward's hand remained on hers, but she couldn't make herself look at him.

Her images had left him wordless. Shocked perhaps—so much so that he probably couldn't move. She pulled her hand away, sparing him the need to.

"It's OK, Edward. You don't need to say anything. I know it's messed up. You can just go, if you want to."

Now she looked at him. He stared back, face a grim mask.

She stuck her gaze back onto the familiar territory of the page. "But I'd prefer you just go, rather than stare at me." She whispered this, but flushed angrily.

"I'm sorry. I'm—" He paused, swallowing. "How accurate is your drawing?"

How _accurate_ was her drawing?

Her eyebrows pushed together, and her nose wrinkled angrily, looking at him.

"Is his face a true likeness?" he asked.

"Why?" _What did it matter?_

He was incredulous when he answered. "Why? Do you really have to ask?" This was almost growled out.

"It—I don't know, I guess it's accurate. It's hard to say—"

"I don't want to be mistaken, Bella, when I find him."

His meaning clicked, and her face paled.

They were facing each other now, and at this transformation, his own features melted in another feeling entirely. "I'm sorry," he murmured, putting his hand to her cheek. "You say I'm not a monster, Bella, but you forget what I am. I am that, and so much worse. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for what you went through, and that I didn't take you from there at the first opportunity. You deserve so much better—"

"I don't need your pity, Edward."

"My pity? My _pity_?" He shook his head, and cupped her face with both hands. "I _love_ you, Bella. I have no pity. I have anguish that you've been hurt so much." He waved his hand towards the pictures. "But I am a monster, and I want to find the man that did this to you and make him suffer. I would like to tell you that I won't, or that it will pass, but I know it won't, but to pity you. No. I want you to feel joy, and happiness. If you don't want to be with me, knowing what my nature wants, I'll understand, but I will do whatever I can to make you happy."

It floored her. "You think I want you to leave _me_?"

"I would understand if you did."

"How do _you_ want to even be with me, when I'm like this?" She pushed her hand into the air, hovering over the book.

"You were raped, Bella. Of course you think about it."

Oh.

Yes, that would explain him staying.

"I wasn't raped, Edward," she mumbled.

"And how, exactly, do you reason that out?"

She shook her head. "No one held me down—"

Edward looked at the page in front of him, and then back at her.

Her head was still shaking. "I won't say I enjoyed it, but no one forced me—"

"You're telling me you wanted that?" He'd dropped his hands from her face to find her fingers..

"He paid for sex, Edward. "I spread my legs and let him." She gritted the words out through her teeth. "I am not a victim. I had a choice, and I made it."

"You weren't allowed to leave, Bella. I doubt very much you elected to do that of your own free will."

"I was a whore, Edward."

She didn't recognize all the feelings that flickered over his face.

"You—" He stopped himself, setting both hands beside her. "I love you. _You_ matter to me. Your well being and your happiness—these matter to me. That someone hurt you matters to me too, more than it should."

"He wasn't there to hurt me Edward. It was just sex."

He looked at the drawing again, and then said softly. "I don't think it would haunt you so much if it was only that." Now his hands slipped around her, pulling her closer to him. "I love you, Bella." His forehead rested lightly against hers.

He loved her.

He'd said as much before, but not in the face of this.

Tears of relief, and grief, too, welled up. "I don't deserve you." Her voice was raspy with emotion.

"You stole my line." He smiled, and then, very slowly, moved to kiss her. It was soft, and gentle, and stole her air in a way that made her head swim pleasantly.

When he pulled back, his forehead was furrowed. "You don't see yourself clearly, Bella. You are remarkable in so many ways, not the least of which is your courage, but you. . . lack perspective when it comes to understanding what you've been through."

"I think I see myself quite clearly, Edward."

He shook his head. "How can I help you, Bella? To see what you are? To know that you're safe?"

This answer was easy. Immediate.

"Be with me."

They were standing together, arms around each other.

"I am."

She shook her head, and God help her, she blushed, thinking of it. "No, I mean—" and her glance stole back to the coffee table.

He looked stricken. His eyes widened, and he choked out a horrified, "No! I can't Bella. I could—"

But she'd backed away, shaking her head, thinking she understood far better than he did, the reasons for his rejection.

"Bella, it's not—"

She held up her hand. "Just let me talk." Then she looked down for a moment, considering how to put this all together. How to not squirm under the shame of this rejection. These words were difficult.

"When I left here, I trusted people. They'd been good to me, largely. I learned very quickly, that this was not the case everywhere. That—" and she looked at the coffee table again, "was not the first time someone hurt me. No," she clarified, seeing him grow tense again, "not that way. It was just one of the last manifestations. I never knew if someone was going to hit me, rob me, or grope me—it wasn't a matter of if it would happen, but when. And not knowing—not _knowing_ when or where, but knowing it will happen, that's the most difficult. That's why I'm so freaked out over everything, Edward. I am completely screwed up."

He interjected. "You are not, Bella, and it doesn't help you to keep saying that you are."

She didn't bother to disagree, but shrugged. "By the time I met you, I'd had enough experience, and enough warnings from the other girls that I knew what to expect. I kept wondering, that first night, when you would take what you'd paid for." His face twisted painfully, but she went on. "And the second night, when you brought your car." She stopped, letting out a bitter laugh. "They'd warned me about guys with nice cars. Patty said 'you're more likely to wind up bent over one than in one.'" She capped this with a huff of breath out. "And then when you stopped me from falling at the pool, I thought you were just trying to get me to trust you, to let my guard down. I kept thinking, will it be here? There? When you told me I didn't have to stay—I almost said yes, but then I was terrified it was a test, and that it would be so much worse to trust you and find out it was a lie. So I locked my door when I went to sleep, and hoped I wouldn't wake up to find you—" she couldn't finish the statement, "that's what he did." Now both their gazes went back to the drawing on the table.

He walked towards her and took her hand, frowning and grimacing before he spoke.

"I can't, Bella, because I won't risk killing you, but even if I could, I wouldn't."

She pulled herself away, anger making her heart skid and trip over itself, her legs mimicking the action too. Edward caught her before she could fall, the distance closed between them instantly.

His face was pained and anguished, and if she could trust her senses, she would have thought his voice trembled in speaking. "You aren't asking me to make love to you, Bella, because it will supplant what has happened to you, you're asking to have your worst fears confirmed. That I'll betray your trust, that I have no noble intentions. And if I said yes to what you're asking, I would betray your trust in the worst possible way. So no, I will not. Even if I would not risk killing you in the attempting of it, I would not, because you are in no way ready."

She jerked herself away from him, ears ringing, limbs rattling with rage.

Now he was almost squinting, head turned, as if he was trying to listen to something.

"Bella?" he asked, like she'd said something.

"Do you jerk everyone around like that?" she finally managed.

"I don't speak the truth so plainly, no, because they're not worth it. You are."

The shaking grew. "But you're certainly used to being in control."

He didn't respond, still squinting, still seeming to be listening.

"You are such a jerk. And I am so done with having men make decisions for me." With this, she turned and grabbed her coat, yanking the door open and tromping angrily down the stairs.

It was difficult to start the truck, her hands shook so much.

When he appeared at the window, rolled down for the heat of the day, she jumped in her seat.

"I love you," he said. "I will be here for you, no matter what. When you are ready to have the company of someone who will tell you the truth, honour who are you are, and not try to force your hand in your choices, I'll be waiting."

The tears didn't stop her from finally getting the truck to start, but they made driving difficult. For the second time that week, she drove blurry eyed, this time in the opposite direction, both literally, and figuratively, away from a surety of love.


	25. Emancipation

A/N for 2018-10-29: I think I responded to a reader earlier in the story (or left an author's note) saying that Jacob was a solid dude in this story. He is, but...well, writing this very small Jacob-Bella interaction utterly creeped me out. He has no nefarious intentions, but as the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Happy reading!

~ Erin

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it," she muttered, when Billy asked her what was wrong. He wasn't surprised when she arrived home earlier than usual.

To his credit, Billy listened, only calling out "I won't hassle you, Bella, but I'm here to talk if you need me." Then he let her alone.

There was a residual shake in her hand as she pulled out her phone.

Staring at her was a message from Edward: _I love you. I'm here when you're ready._

She didn't deserve him. Not at all.

Her heart thudded, heavy with regret.

She made herself punch in the numbers for the call she needed to make.

"Hi, Pam?...Yeah, it's Bella….Bella Swan...Um, I wanted to ask about that option you'd mentioned before….Yes. That one...No, but I can. Is there anything else I need to do?...I know, I know. I can deal with that. It's only a few more months. OK. Tomorrow?...I'll be by after school….three-thirty?….OK. Thanks, see you then. Bye."

The shake subsided with this small piece of control now exerted.

She made herself emerge for dinner, speaking when spoken to, but otherwise silent.

Jacob tried to make up for it by talking more. He was rambling by the end of dinner, and Billy leaned over with a quiet, and admonishing, "Son," as they all cleared dishes.

Bella had avoided interacting with Jacob, so when he stood and put a hand on her shoulder, it make her start.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

She took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" Her voice was edgy. Careful.

"You know. Clear the air? Outside?"

She didn't know, but she said, "Sure." She could listen. She didn't have to talk.

After cleaning up the dinner dishes, they went to the porch, Bella taking one end of the bench, and Jacob the other.

"Bella, I'm sorry for the way I told you—"

"You've already apologized Jake. It get it, it's fine." It wasn't, but she didn't need to invest in her relationship with him anymore now.

"It's not, though. Things are still—"

"Awkward? Yeah. Kinda happens when you tell someone you hate their boyfriend, and then follow that up with how their dad really died."

His jaw clenched at this blunt description.

"You don't owe him anything, Bella. I know he paid—"

She growled out her next words. "That is _not_ why we're together, Jacob."

"No, I know, it's just...you could have someone who's human, Bella, whose nature won't be a risk to you."

She stood up. "Think I get the gist of this conversation, Jake." She went to move inside, but was prevented by the grip of his hand on her wrist.

"You don't." He looked angry, and she stood still, transfixed by fear, and by the power of his hand. Good things didn't come from such holds, and she knew better than to try and fight it.

He stood now to join her, taking her other hand. His voice was very low. "You have choices." He placed her captured wrist on his chest, where the heat felt blistering.

Then he released her, and before he could change his mind, she turned and fled back inside, slamming her bedroom door, locking it.

Now she understood what Edward was talking about, about things he didn't have a right to say. She really wished he'd said, because this was the last straw.

She sat against the door for sometime, waiting for her body to stop shaking. It took a long time. When the noises in the house died down, she got up and began packing. There wasn't much, and most of it fit in a few bags. She didn't dare sleep in the bed, but at the far end of the room, on a patch of carpet furthest from the door.

In the morning, she didn't see Jacob. He'd left early, or perhaps been out. It didn't matter, and she didn't care.

"What's all that?" Billy asked, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

"I'm leaving."

Billy blinked for a second, then opened his mouth to say something.

"I can't do this, Billy," she blurted out.

"Bella—"

"No." She shook her head as he moved to come closer. "It's really clear that me seeing Edward is going to be a problem here—"

"I will talk to Jacob, Bella—"

"I think we've both done enough talking on that front, and I doubt it will make a difference. He was really clear that he felt I had better choices, and he was the best one."

Billy closed his eyes, and his face fell. He whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

There was an awkward stretch of silence.

"What's your plan, Bella?"

"I'm going to see the social worker, and get the paperwork together for emancipation."

They'd looked at this in February, but she didn't have an income, and wouldn't inherit until she turned eighteen. "But you're—"

"I have the financial means, now." Her insides squirmed uncomfortably. She was still uneasy with the source of the cash in her bank account.

Billy opened his mouth to ask a question, but then stopped, obviously remembering the money Edward had given her. "Of course."

"I'd like to have the rest of the keys to my Dad's house, Billy." Her message was clear. She didn't want them having access.

Billy rolled towards the coat hooks, pulling out his keychain. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

"Thank you," she mumbled, fingering it. Jacob's actions the night before had completely unsettled her. Add on top of that how she'd left things with Edward, and she felt utterly unanchored.

"Lotta work, taking care of a house, Bella. Living on your own."

"I know."

"Do you?" He asked gently.

"I'll need to figure it out at some point, Billy. Not like I was going to stay here forever."

"I'm here if you need me," he said softly. She noticed the difference: I, not we.

The distinction did not disappoint her.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I appreciate you giving me a home, Billy, and supporting me. I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize Bella. _I'm_ sorry. Jake is—" he sighed. "It's been hard for him—the change. He's always liked you, and now, to see you with creatures his very body tells him are wrong—" He held his hands out palms up, as if offering this inexplicable explanation to her.

"Yeah." It was a muttered dismissal. She didn't need Billy's justifications. She knew well enough to stay away from Jacob. His good intentions were were no protection against harm.

This stilted farewell had gone on long enough. "I won't be coming back." She gestured towards her things.

"If there's anything you've forgotten, we'll bring it by."

"Call please, first, if you do." She didn't want to be caught off guard by both of them, or worse, Jacob, showing up unannounced. Not after last night.

"For sure."

"OK, I'm off." She picked up her bags.

"Call me? Please? Let me know when things are settled?"

She nodded, and was out the door as quickly as she could move.

On the way to school, she stopped at the small strip mall that sat on the edge of Fork's main street, hoping Newton's was open, or that the owners would be there. She'd overheard Mike mention that his parents liked to hire students for the summer. She needed the work, if she was going to live on her own.

The lights were on, and a tall woman in—of all things—heels and skin tight jeans answered the door. "Hi there, we're not quite open yet. You need something quick?"

Bella smiled nervously. "Um, yes, actually. A Job."

"Oh," she said, taking Bella's appearance in.

"Mike said you were looking for people? My name's Bella Swan. I thought—"

"Bella, of course. He's mentioned you."

There was something in the woman's smile that made Bella's stomach feel uneasy, but she dismissed it.

"We are looking for someone right now, actually, if you're free weekday afternoons?"

"I am." Bella couldn't believe her luck.

"Can you come by tomorrow?"

They made their arrangements, and Bella found herself tentatively, but gainfully employed for three days after school each week, and one day each weekend. It wouldn't be much, but it would be enough to pay for groceries, and gas, and some of the utilities for the house.

She approached school much more cautiously, wary of her reception there.

Principal Green was outside, watching casually, as he did every morning, as students arrived. He nodded politely at her as she went by, only giving her a friendly, "Have a good day," as she passed by.

Bella saw Sally at a distance, and waved to her. Sally turned and tentatively waved back, but didn't approach, and Bella didn't pursue her. It hurt to feel this rejection, small though it was. They'd been through a lot together, and the wedge that Bella felt between them hurt.

At lunch, Mike Newton sidled up to her. "Hear we're gonna be coworkers!"

She smiled back politely, letting the expression flicker on her face. "Yeah, guess so." Then she looked at Jessica, letting her take over the conversation, happy to slide into the background.

There was a certain level of nervous anxiety bubbling inside her as she walked towards her truck, trying to decide if she had enough time before meeting Pam to stop at the grocery store. Head down, she watched her steps, deciding it would be best to wait until afterwards, just in case it took longer than expected. She wouldn't want the food sitting in the—

"Bella."

Her head snapped up. Edward was standing beside her truck. He stepped sideways, making it clear she could get by without going near him.

"Edward."

After how she'd left things, she hadn't expected him to come to her. She'd stuffed that painful ache deep down inside, only touching on it when she and Jacob had talked the night before. Now flickers of their last, and most painful conversation flooded her conscious mind.

"Are you leaving?" he asked softly. "Because of what I said?" He looked at her truck, where her small stack of belongings sat in the passenger side.

"No!"

"Then," he asked, turning his head towards her truck. "Would you care to tell me why your truck is packed with your things?"

She pulled in a deep breath, and then let it out. "I'm moving out, from Billy's."

"And where are you planning on going?" He still hadn't moved closer to her, hands loose at his sides.

"My Dad's."

He exhaled in obvious relief.

"You thought I was...leaving?"

"After the way things ended yesterday, I wasn't sure what to think." His posture seemed to stiffen, like he was keeping himself from moving closer.

She closed her eyes, and then opened them, trying to not let the emotion show in her voice, or manifest in tears. "I'm sorry," she started. "I shouldn't have asked what I did yesterday. It's just been—"

He moved towards her now, his hands pausing before they reached her.

She leaned in to the welcome of his arms, mirroring it with her own. She felt like she could finally breathe again with him close.

"I'm sorry I upset you. I'm sorry for saying no, I—" Edward started.

"It's OK," she murmured into his chest. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sorry, Edward. You don't want to, I get it—"

"That's not what I said." He leaned back a little, so he could look at her. "It is not a question of want, in anyway."

Eager to avoid the rehashing of this conversation, she nodded, hoping they could move on from it for now. "Did Alice see something?" she asked instead. "Is that why you're here?"

"No," he answered quietly, brushing his hand down over her hair. "She's away right now. I just wanted to see you. I was a little alarmed by the sight of all your worldly possessions in your truck though."

"Sorry. It's been a while coming, I just—things came to a head last night."

Now Edward frowned deeply. "How?"

She shook her head. It wasn't the time or place. "I have an appointment I need to get to, with my social worker."

Edward's eyebrows rose again, this time in querying surprise.

"I'm applying for emancipation."

"You don't need to."

It was her turn to let her eyebrows ride high on her forehead. "Actually, I do."

"Carlisle and Esme would be happy to have you, Bella."

She smiled a little at the notion. "From one supernatural home to another. Thank you, no, I think I need to have my own space. To be responsible for myself. I've had enough of being minded in one way or another."

"They would not mind you in any sense you didn't welcome, Bella."

His words tugged at her heart. She'd so wanted to be welcomed and cared for with the Blacks, and she had, but it had twisted into something ugly with Jacob's presence, and the memory of Rosalie's hostile indifference was loud in her thoughts.

"No, Edward, but thank you. I need someplace...neutral, to be."

He nodded, accepting her words. "Do you want company, to see your social worker?"

She bit her lip. The answer was yes, and no. "Maybe?"

"I'm only offering. If you'd prefer to be alone—"

"No, I'd like you to come, but can you let me handle things?"

"Of course."

Pam sort of blinked at Edward when she met him, as if trying to reconcile something in her mind. Then she snapped back to herself, and talked Bella through the paperwork. Her tone relayed just how impressed she was by what Bella had already prepared.

"You've budgeted before, clearly." She looked at Bella's notes. "Do you have a job?"

"Yes. I don't have anything but a handshake on it, but I can bring you something later this week."

Edward glanced at Bella, hearing this, but as promised, said nothing.

"That's fine. You have financial means until you're eighteen. That's enough at this point." She frowned a little now. "This is a pretty final step though, Bella. If things go sideways the state steps in again, but you don't get a whole lot of choice in terms of where you land."

"I understand." She let a small shudder ride up her spine. The thought of being placed in a foster home was enough to keep her from even thinking of screwing this up.

"If you need any help, or advice, please don't feel too proud to ask." She looked levelly at Bella.

"I won't."

It felt surreal, leaving, her independence only needing a judge's approval to be official.

"What next?" Edward asked.

"Grocery shopping."

"Perhaps I can take you to dinner to celebrate?"

"And save me the joy of cooking for myself?" She grinned, swinging his hand back and forth as they walked to her truck.

"Would you prefer to cook?" he asked, his genuineness apparent. "Or I can, if you'd like."

She thought of the last meal she'd enjoyed in his presence, at his house, and the question that had half-formed in her mind, bubbled to the surface. "Why is Alice away?"

His look told her she'd hit upon something significant. "She and Jasper went with old friends of theirs."

Theirs. Not ours. "Their friends? Not yours?"

"No." The word was clipped.

Bella's eyebrows nudged together.

"Old friends of Jasper's. Not vegetarians."

Ah.

"That's why we couldn't go to your place."

"Yes," Edward said, "and why Alice and Jasper are accompanying them out of the area."

That sounded awkward indeed, and her expression registered it.

"They respect our wishes and our territory when they visit, but I felt better knowing they were seen leaving without being tempted by anything."

"You mean you were worried about me."

"Very."

"I don't know whether or not to be flattered, or worried for the insane level of paranoia you have about my safety." She said this with a smile, but his face bore no marks of humour.

She felt a flush rise up her cheeks, and looked down, embarrassed by her poor judgement anticipating his reaction.

His hand cupped her chin, lifting it. "I love you. And having seen what you've already endured, I will do whatever I can to spare you any danger or discomfort." Then he grinned. "But yes, I am insanely paranoid. Please excuse my excess."

Lifting herself the necessary few inches on her toes, she found his lips with hers, and forgot about safety, and groceries, and budgets, and all manner of human preoccupations.

Edward pulled back far too soon, murmuring, "I think we're attracting more attention her than you'd like."

Bella flicked her gaze around, and then blushed deeply, seeing the eyes lingering on them. Several passersby had slowed their walks, quiet snickers in their faces.

"Right," Bella whispered.

"Right," he agreed. "Groceries?"

"Groceries."

The store was moderately busy, so they kept close together pushing the cart through it, Edward watching her make choices. She was keeping a running total in her head, and there was a distinct pattern of picking up, and putting down. Some things here were just too expensive to buy.

"Can I take you to dinner tonight?" he asked. "I have a feeling you'll be busy at home, getting things set up."

"I will," she said, biting her lip. The place hadn't been cleaned since she'd left, and the dust had been something to behold when they'd been there the day before.

At the cash register, she gasped out a horrified "No!" when he went to pay, giving the cashier a stern look when the woman paused, presented with two methods of payment. "These are my groceries," she clarified. "He can go buy his own."

The woman lifted an eyebrow, but took Bella's card. Edward picked up all the bags before she was done paying, smiling.

"Where to, Miss Swan?" he asked demurely.

"Home," she smiled, amused by this domestic version of Edward.

"Home it is, then," he said, smiling back.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	26. Home

A/N for 2018-11-09: Thanks folks, for your follows and comments. A few of you pointed out a pretty big plot hole, in that Bella's emancipation would need to be approved by a judge. Feedback appreciated. I've changed that line in the last chapter to reflect that, so it reads: "It felt surreal, leaving, [Bella's] independence only needing a judge's approval to be official."

As for this chapter: it has vexed me—greatly—which is why it's taken so long for me to get this out. I'm nervous about posting, and would appreciate hearing your critique on any problems with character and plot development. So, if something sits wrong with you about it, I _want_ to hear.

Cheers,

Erin

* * *

 **~ Home ~**

As they pulled up in front of her house, Edward eyed Bella. There were grey shadows under her eyes, and he'd caught her rubbing at them, stifling a yawn.

She wanted to clean the house—and he couldn't argue with the need. Yesterday, the coating of several month's dusty accumulation had left her wheezy, and red-eyed.

Of course, he'd had his own part to play in that.

She needed help, in so many different ways, and yet she was so averse to asking for, or taking it.

It would've been nothing for him to pay for her groceries—nothing. But she'd insisted on doing it herself. Even then, he knew she'd put back things she needed or wanted. He could go buy them, and leave them when she was sleeping, but he doubted she'd like, or even accept such assistance.

And what she _had_ asked for. His chest tightened, just considering it. She had no idea how dangerous it would be.

It was a battle on two fronts, that refusal, shoving away both her request, and his own monstrous desire to capitulate to it.

God, he wanted her, and it was only the thought of what he might do, kept ever present in his mind, that stopped him.

He could not hurt her. Ever.

When she shut off the engine to her truck, he didn't even bother asking about taking things inside. His senses assured him that there was no one around, so he had everything into the house before she pulled herself, and her backpack from the front of the truck.

"Wait," she said, looking at the empty truck bed in alarm, then at him. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, "Did you just—"

"Take it all inside? Yes."

"Thank you," she said, the wrinkle between her eyebrows still there. "Weren't you worried about someone seeing you, though?"

Edward chuckled a little, and tapped his head. "No. No one around right now."

He picked up the backpack she'd let slip down her arm, feeling her arm tense to grab it.

"Let me help you, Bella, please."

"You have helped me," she said, keeping a tight grip on the bag, and starting to walk towards the house. "If I mean to live alone, I need to be able to take care of myself."

"That doesn't mean you _need_ to do it alone."

"People do."

He sighed quietly, watching her march inside.

She put the bag down on the dining room table with a dusty thump.

"You up for some cleaning, Mr. Helpful?" There was a glint in her eye.

She didn't think he was.

Perfect. She couldn't blame him when he got it all done then.

"Certainly." He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, rolling the sleeves up his forearms so that the fabric sat bunched just above his elbow.

She swallowed, looking at him. The quick breaths, and blush that pinked her cheeks told him she wasn't thinking about cleaning.

He wasn't either.

"I'll start upstairs," he said, throat suddenly tight with feeling. He needed to distract himself from the palpable want in the room. Badly.

He sprinted up the stairs before she could say no. Finding a bucket, and what he assumed were cleaning cloths, he began wiping down the walls, and all the other hard surfaces in the two bedrooms. As the water darkened, he sloshed it out into the tub, replenishing it. After a few minutes, the dusting was done, and he found the mop, and then the vacuum, putting both to good use.

That was the upstairs.

It had been seven minutes.

He could hear Bella, still putting things away in the kitchen, items rattling in the cupboards.

It took him five more minutes to repeat the procedure downstairs.

When he was done with the vacuum, she came out from the kitchen. "Um, Edward?" She looked around, a finger tentatively touching the wall, rubbing it against her thumb. Then she looked at him. "Did you just clean my entire house?"

He grinned. "No. Haven't touched the kitchen."

She laughed, stuttering with disbelief. "OK, not all of it then."

"But that will need to be cleaned, if you want to eat," he said, coming closer, taking her hand. "Why don't you go unpack, and I'll finish that up?" He lifted his chin towards the kitchen.

"I _can_ clean, Edward."

"I don't doubt it, and you can clean all you want tomorrow, but tonight you look really tired. Go. Unpack. Then maybe you'll let me order some pizza?"

She pressed her forehead into his chest. "Pizza sounds awesome."

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "What kind?"

"Anything without pineapple."

He chuckled. "My last meal was a cougar. Maybe you can give me a bit more guidance?"

"Pepperoni," she murmured into his chest. Her breath was warm there, and her hands had made themselves comfortable just at his waist. Before their proximity could morph into something else, he pulled away as slowly. "I'll go get started then."

As he cleaned, he phoned in an order for pizza, using the number from the menu stuck to the fridge.

The kitchen was dust free in a few minutes, and he waited at the counter, listening to Bella unpack upstairs, guessing at what she was doing from the sounds she made.

After a little while though, the sounds stopped, except for her breathing, and it had taken on a broken rhythm that he knew accompanied her tears.

He was at her door, hand poised to push it open, but then he stopped, wondering if she needed this moment alone.

When he saw, through the crack, her hand fly to her mouth, stifling a sob, he spoke. "Bella?"

"Oh!" She jumped a little.

His nose hadn't misled him. There were tears on her cheeks, and some had found their way to the bedspread. Her hand trailed over it, tracing some pattern he couldn't see.

"My Dad bought this for me, just before I came."

He nodded, sitting down. He'd been waiting for her grief, speculating as to what shape it would take—shapes, he reminded himself. She had lost so much, in such a short period of time.

And now she would be alone, devoid of even the Blacks' company. He grimaced, sitting beside her on the bed. His feelings on this point were painfully mixed. She shouldn't be alone. She needed human company, and support, but he'd be lying if he didn't feel guiltily grateful that his access to her would be unfettered.

"You miss him," he said softly.

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I'm glad to be here, but it feels weird, you know, feeling sad too. We didn't have much time to get to know each other again. It feels like I'm not...entitled to it."

"He was your father, Bella. Of course you are."

"Sure, but-"

"It's not just him you're grieving."

Her quick nod was mute.

He squeezed her fingers gently.

"Sorry," she finally murmured.

"For what?"

"Falling apart all the time. Being a mess"

It pained him to hear her say this, especially when it was repeated so frequently. "You're not." He frowned again. Her tenacity, and grace under such circumstances continued to awe him. Most people her age would have been too afraid to speak up for themselves, let alone leave the security of a home—even as discordant as the foster and group homes she'd left.

Telling her this hadn't produced the effect he desired.

"You're not, so we'll have to agree to disagree there." He moved his hand to her back, rubbing it gently.

"I'm not normally so emotional." She wiped the backs of her hands across her face.

Automatically, Edward reached to his pocket, and then chuckled at this very old, and human instinct. Then he caught Bella's widened eyes. "Sorry, just laughing at myself. In my time, we all carried handkerchiefs. I seem to have forgotten I'm out of the habit these days."

Bella's laugh was a small bubbling of joy to him, hearing it fill the echoing space. "We're all creatures of our times, I suppose."

"We are." He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, brushing away the wetness there.

Now she looked down, the wrinkle between her eyebrows prominent again. "Is that why you said no, because—" she shrugged, clearly not sure of, or comfortable with the words she needed.

He grasped her meaning instantly.

What a question.

"No, and yes."

He was surprised she'd brought this up. She'd been eager to avoid it earlier today.

She nodded, the fleshy wrinkle still on her forehead. "I'm sorry. That must have made you really uncomfortable. We've just started seeing each other, and you must think—"

"That I love you, very, very much," he finished for her, wanting to preempt further self-deprecating commentary. "And if I'd said yes, even if I could—and no, I don't think you appreciate how much danger you'd be in, with us being together that way—I'd be taking advantage of you, Bella."

"I _asked_ , Edward—"

"You did, and I meant what I said earlier, Bella, that I was sorry to say no. Not just because I don't think you're ready, but because I have no right to be with you at all."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're alive, Bella, and you have the gift of a changing life—of growth, and age, and even children, if you want them. I can't give you a normal life."

"I want _you,_ Edward. The other things don't matter."

He grimaced, knowing how it would gall her to hear this. "You say that now, Bella, but you're young yet."

The wash of red that flew up her cheeks didn't surprise him.

She stood up stiffly. Her words were loud and angry as they rattled in the almost empty room. "I've had to listen to a lot of people tell what I am, and what I have to do. I don't need more of it, and I don't need to be told I'm too young to know what I want."

"I don't doubt you know what you _want_ , but I'm not so sure about the things you say you don't want." He stood up, stepping closer to her. She had put her hands on the window ledge, facing the cool glass there.

She turned abruptly. "Why is it you get to be so certain of things, Edward? And I don't?"

It took him aback. "You do, Bella."

"Do I? You tell me that us being together is impossible. How do you know? I doubt you've done any research on that front."

He blinked in shock.

"Or have you?" Her jaw clenched around the words, and her eyebrows shot up, waiting for his answer.

"I—no. I haven't been with anyone, Bella."

"Then you don't know."

He didn't. He could only imagine, and that was enough to terrify him. "No, and I won't risk your life in experimenting."

Her tears were sudden, and silent, but they took her voice, and she shook her head as he put his hands on her upper arms.

"What is it?"

After a moment, she swallowed. "Is that really it—you're afraid of hurting me? Physically, emotionally? Or is it something else?"

"Those are my only reasons, Bella. Nothing else."

She pulled in a big breath. "It isn't because—of what I showed you?"

His heart clenched painfully. "No," he hushed out. "No," he said again, and circled his arms around her, trapping her head under his chin.

They stayed that way, her breath warming his chest.

He dared to hope the conversation begun the day before was over.

He was wrong.

"Edward," she whispered. "If we waited, until we were ready—"

"Bella—"

"If we waited, would you at least...try?"

He closed his eyes and breathed out, and a shudder rippled through him. His mind was too eager to give shape to the horrifying, bloody, and bone-cracking possibilities such a union might produce.

"Please?" Her head turned into his shirt, and now the warmth there was wet with her tears. "Please?" Her voice grew higher and faster. "Because I don't want to remember what I remember. I want to remember something better—and if you don't want to be with me because of what I've been, I'll get it, but if—"

"Bella, it isn't—"

"Please just—please just try, Edward. That's all I'm asking—" Her voice was high and tremulous, shaking and wet with tears.

It was abhorrent, watching her suffer. So when he blurted out, "We can try," it was with equal parts relief, and horror.

What had he just done?

Had he really just—

"Thank you," she breathed. Her lips were hot over his cold ones, but the contact was light.

His body felt dislocated from itself, horror, hope, and desire all warring for a place to happen.

This was all interrupted by a very singular set of thoughts moving closer to them—those of Jacob Black.

He didn't break their contact. She'd returned her head to his chest, resting it there, breathing calming slowly. He listened to the stream of unhappy ruminations coming from the boy. He was alone, it seemed, and in his human form.

There were snatches of things that Edward wanted to see more of, and others he wished weren't so loudly thought.

"Were you expecting company?" he asked Bella.

"No, why?"

"Jacob is here to see you."

She pulled back abruptly, face pinched angrily.

"No, then?"

"No," she mumbled, sighing unhappily. "I asked Billy to call if they were coming by. I'll go see what he wants."

Edward's hand shot out, icy on her forearm. "Let me go with you."

She eyed him. "I can handle Jacob."

"It isn't you I doubt."

She shrugged, and jogged down the stairs.

Jacob's knock was louder than it needed to be.

The angry thoughts were pointed now—he'd smelled a vampire's presence. His speculation as to the source did nothing to calm him.

When Bella opened the door though, he was holding together an awkward smile.

"Hey."

"Hi, Jake. I forget something?"

Jacob's eyebrows rose, and Edward stiffened behind Bella, a hand ready to yank her out of the way, if needed.

Not needed yet.

Yet.

"Like saying goodbye? Seriously, I come home to find you gone? What is that?"

"Me leaving, Jake."

"Why, Bella?" This was spoken softly, accompanied by him leaning in closer, his form almost hunching over Bella's.

Edward's hand twitched, fighting the urge to move her behind him. Jacob's memories were clarifying, and just why Bella had left was too. His breath hissed in, and Jacob looked up at him, features instantly hardening. Then he looked back at Bella.

"I need to be on my own," Bella said, but there was an uncertainty to her voice.

She was nervous, Edward realized.

"I can see that's working out real well." He looked back at Edward.

Bella turned back to him. "Give us a minute?"

Edward hesitated, for good reason, before answering.

"Please?"

It was like being skewered, hearing that word from her. He found himself murmuring, "Of course," in disbelief, and then moving a short distance away, ears and mind focused on what was transpiring between them.

"This doesn't look like you being on your own, Bella."

"He's helping me get set up."

"We would have done that for you, Bella."

"Thank you," she said, voice even.

Jacob huffed out a breath. He was frustrated, but it wasn't dangerous. His next words were soft enough that Edward knew he was trying to keep them private to he and Bella. "I'm sorry, about last night. I think I freaked you out."

Edward pulled in a sharp lungful of air, seeing what Jacob remembered. He held still, telling himself that doing anything else would only frighten Bella.

"Yes, but it made me realize that it can't work, me living with you and your dad. You won't ever be OK with Edward and I, and I don't want to have that where I live."

"Bella, please come back. We can protect you—"

"No." Her voice quavered. Then the "No," was louder, and Jacob's thoughts told Edward that he'd tried to take her hand.

He had Jacob on the driveway in under a second, Edward's hand holding Jacob at arm's length.

"Don't. Touch. Her."

He released Jacob's arm, stepping back, every muscle straining in defense of Bella.

Jacob said nothing for the time, shaking and twitching, his control slipping, a surly growl bubbling out of his throat.

Edward returned the sound, and then moved closer to the stairs, putting himself between Jacob's inconstant shape, and Bella's trembling one.

"Go!" he hissed, "if you care for her so much!" He was through with letting this creature near Bella. She'd been more than polite, and Jacob had stepped over the line she'd drawn.

Full of surliness and resentment, Jacob turned, at least seeing the sense in leaving. His path took him straight into the woods.

When Edward turned to face Bella, it was to see her gripping the edge of the door frame, knuckles white.

He was there instantly, making her start backwards. He didn't try to catch her, worried it would only agitate her more. He did hold out a hand to her, but she ignored it, turning and sitting down in one of the dining room chairs.

At a purposefully human pace, he sat down beside her, disturbed by the colour draining from her cheeks.

"Bella?"

She didn't respond, her jaw and eyebrows working, like she wanted to say something, but couldn't quite muster the words.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, she spoke in a muffled whisper. "Anyone could come here."

Edward's eyebrows drew together. "What?"

"Anyone."

Did she think he'd leave her unprotected?

"There are windows on the main level that could be broken—"

"Bella, you're safe—"

"The lock on the door isn't the best. I bugged Charlie about fixing it for when I visited him last time—"

"Bella, I won't let anything happen—"

"It would just take a rock to—"

Now he put his hand to her cheek. "You're safe here, Bella. I promise."

Her body was taking its own course, all the blood stealing away form the frantic and implausible suggestions of her panicked mind.

She put her head down on the table, breathing, but not talking.

Edward's anxiety was only growing. He ignored her frail, "I'm fine!" and picked her up, carrying her to the sofa, where he laid her down, feet elevated.

"You don't look fine. Humour me."

"I'm just—"

"Fine. I know. Just stay put, please for a bit." She was trying to sit up, and he let his hand rest lightly on her shoulder.

After she put her head back down, she closed her eyes. "OK. Maybe I'm not fine."

"Bella, what did you mean by 'anyone could come here'?"

"Don't," she warned, a hand up. "Just...I…" Then she did sit up, flushed and angry suddenly, and the sounds that Edward had thought he'd heard the day before, were most certainly there, and he realized what they were: her thoughts.


	27. Expectation and Reality

A/N for 2018-11-16: Not sure if it's the end of the week getting to me, but I post this with some uncertainty. Definitely want to hear your thoughts (positive, or negative) on plot and character development.

Thank you, as always, for doing what you do best: reading, reviewing, and reacting!

~ Erin

* * *

 **Expectation and Reality**

Edward sat on the coffee table, a look of stunned comprehension on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bella interrupted him.

"I need to get out of here," she whispered, shame and anger warring for space in her features. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd been at home for an hour, and she was falling apart with nerves.

Another wave of anger rose up, and Edward's eyes widened again.

"You're not falling apart," he said firmly.

"What?"

She hadn't said that aloud, she was sure. Had he—

"How did you—?"

His eyebrows were pushed together in concentration. "I _heard_ you—"

Her own eyes widened.

Edward shook his head, then looked very worried again. "You're not, Bella. You're doing so well."

"You're hearing my thoughts?"

"I did."

"But—"

"For a moment. Yesterday, I thought I heard it too, but now," he cocked his head, as if trying to focus, but shook it again. "No, it's gone."

The panic hadn't lessened. If anything, it was suggesting possibilities that made her skin crawl. "I can't stay here."

He nodded, standing, picking her up, making her gasp at the sudden movement.

"Where?" he asked softly.

"Just not here." She closed her eyes, knowing he intended to run. As the evening's smells whistled by her, she curled herself tighter into the chill of his body.

Feeling the changing quality of the air, she knew they were inside.

Before she opened her eyes, she caught a woman's audible snort, and Edward's growling response. "Not now, Rose."

"Whatever," his sister mumbled.

Bella opened her eyes a crack, as Edward set her down, just in time to catch the sight of Rosalie slipping out the door they'd just come through.

"Is it OK, that we're here?" she asked him. "If it's not, I'm fine, I can—"

Edward's hands cupped her face. "You're always welcome here. _Always_." Then he smiled, "And Esme is going to come repeat that in a moment. Rose is just—wrestling with her own demons."

Bella smiled nervously in return, her heart still fluttering with the panic she felt only half left behind.

"House full of vampires, remember? No one can trouble you here."

She nodded, but felt the pull of a frown at her lips, as she asked, softly, "If it's OK, I'm not really feeling up for company right now."

"Sure," he said softly, holding out his hand for her to take.

Moving at Bella's pace, they walked upstairs. As they did, he pulled out his phone, redirecting the pizza order he'd made earlier.

Bella laughed. It sounded so normal, so completely at odds with how she felt. The laughter wasn't quite her own, a bubbling sound that became a hiccoughing warble. Edward hung up, and stood face to face with her.

"Just breathe with me, OK? In, and then out."

She nodded, trying to master her body's instinct to panic—to run. After a few repetitions, she nodded, and they continued up the stairs.

At the doorway to his room she stopped, not quite sure if it was the right one.

Sitting, centred in the space, was a gigantic bed. It's golden bedspread matched the carpet, and made it look some sort of monstrous fungal outgrowth of the floor. The four sturdy posters only added to this spore-like effect.

She turned and looked back at Edward, her face full of questions.

"I thought you might want a more comfortable place to sleep, than my couch."

She turned back to the bed, then at him, and then burst into genuine laughter.

After the initial, stricken look had faded from his face, Edward smiled sheepishly. "Too much?" His fingers played with hers.

This tiny gesture made her realize just how much he must want her approval—just as she wanted his.

"Sorry," she murmured, "that wasn't kind of me. It's really thoughtful of you. Thank you."

It was still insanely huge. And intimidating.

She looked at it nervously.

"You toss and turn a lot in your sleep," he murmured. "And I'd rather not having to keep you from falling out of bed. Again."

Of course. He'd mentioned it the last time she'd spent the night. It hooked up a long line of memories, and her knees suddenly felt treacherously uncertain.

"Maybe you should sit—or lie down?" he asked, fingers now at her elbow, not quite holding her up, but close.

"Yeah."

The gigantic bed was at least comfortable.

He sat beside her, legs crossed casually, as she tucked her arms around her own.

After a moment, she mustered the courage to ask, "What did you hear?" Then she held her breath, waiting for his answer.

His hand grasped hers. "That you were very afraid, a bit about what you thought might happen if you stayed in your house, and that you were angry, and disappointed with yourself."

She exhaled in relief. "Anything else?"

His stillness told her there was.

"You remembered something, briefly, that made you feel out of control."

She swallowed, and nodded. He'd seen it, then.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"No," he said in reproach. "Don't _ever_ apologize for what you think, or remember, Bella. I should be the one apologizing to you. I'd turn it off, if I could, believe me. Everyone deserves the privacy of their thoughts."

She bit her lip, thinking about this.

"I am curious as to _why_ I could hear, though," Edward said, thumb brushing over her hand.

"I have no idea." She shrugged, and shook her head. "I've been a mess, and up and down and all over the place emotionally."

Edward "hmm'd," softly. "Maybe that's it. Your emotional state is more fluid—"

"I don't want you to hear my thoughts, Edward." She'd blurted it out. "Not these days."

The fingers squeezed again. "I'm not trying to find a way to listen, Bella. I'm trying to understand so I can't."

"OK." Of course he was. And she had doubted him. "OK," she said again, nodding.

He squeezed her fingers again, then paused momentarily. "Pizza's here. Eat here, or downstairs?"

She looked at the immaculate room, and said, "Downstairs...alone? Just us?"

"Sure."

The pizza had been brought in, and left on the kitchen island. The house's other occupants were conspicuously absent.

"Where is everyone?" Bella whispered.

"Giving us some space."

The food helped, and when Edward brought out a glass of juice, she made herself drink it.

"Better?"

"A bit."

She looked at the clock, shocked to see it was only eight, and then leaned back in her chair.

"I have school tomorrow."

The thought of having to attend class, and pretend to be normal, and functional made her want to cry all over again.

Edward had sat beside her, hands on the table, where he toyed with one of the candles there. "It's normal, Bella. What you're feeling."

"Thank you," she said carefully. "You've been really wonderful at reassuring me, it's just," she sighed. "I'd...rather be my normal self. Not falling apart all the time."

"I'm looking forward to seeing what you think of as your normal self." He smiled at this, daring to take her hand again. "But until then, Carlisle could probably write you a note excusing you from school."

She chuckled. "Doctor sanctioned hookey. No, but thank you. I need to catch up. I missed a lot while I was...gone." She thought about her backpack, and school things, homework not done.

"What?" he asked.

"My bag. School stuff. Homework. It's not here, and it's not done."

"No problem."

"What, you gonna do my homework for me?"

He grinned wickedly. "Not needing sleep has its advantages."

She laughed. "I'll just face the music tomorrow, but right now, I think I should get to bed, so I can get my stuff in the morning."

He shook his head. "One of us can go get your things and your truck."

"Vampire valets," she said, chuckling.

He leaned over, taking advantage of her proximity, and absorbing her laughter with his lips. Without breaking the contact, he scooped her up, pushing the chair away with his foot, carrying her upstairs.

His arms made a cold cradle that countered the heat his touch always drew from her.

"Time for bed then, sleeping beauty?"

After he whispered this, he stole her air again.

When the kiss ended, Bella found herself in his room again, blinking, and woozy.

"Whoa."

"There are some things for you in the top two drawers," he said, pointing to the dresser by the ensuite door.

"Thanks," she mumbled, still feeling like the ground was teetering under her feet.

"You can thank Alice tomorrow, yourself," he said, taking her hand and walking her towards the dresser. Then he opened it, and looked inside, eyebrows sweeping up his forehead, "Or not. I'll give you a few minutes."

When he left, and Bella looked in the drawer, she understood the comment. There were clothes inside, and nightclothes too, but all with brand names she didn't recognize, and equally unfamiliar fabrics. Each of the tags read "hand wash" or "dry-clean" only.

She selected the most conservative set of night clothes she could find: a camisole top with an unnecessarily adventurous neckline, and shorts that gave extra brevity to the term. Despite the lack of coverage, the fabric was soft and comfortable, and it suited the warmth of the evening.

She found what she needed in the bathroom, and when she returned, Edward was sitting on the couch, a book in hand.

He swallowed, when he caught sight of her.

She stopped, wishing she'd looked for a robe.

He put the book down, and stood, meeting her at the edge of the bed. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"You're not staying?" She regretted it immediately. What did she expect, for him to watch her sleep? He'd stayed that first night, but…

"If it's OK, yes." His hands rested lightly on her hips, fingers shifting subtly, like they wanted to venture further.

"I do, please."

Now it was her turn to lift herself up on her tiptoes and kiss him.

He moaned into it, hitching her up onto the bed, so that her legs made space for him, standing as she sat. She felt the tip of his tongue tracing the edge of her lips, and opened her mouth, tasting him. His hands stayed on her hips, their pull keeping their bodies tight together.

Her fingers danced up his chest to his hair, where they played in its coppery depths.

The groan she made loosed his grip and icy hands traced the curve of her spine and scapula.

He'd been perfectly still, beyond the movement of his hands, and lips, but this was slowly changing as her own form softened against his harder one. She leaned back against the support of his hands, making sounds she'd not made before, feeling things in places she was sure he didn't want her feeling them.

Not yet, anyway.

Seconds, or minutes, or the substance of an hour could have passed. She wasn't sure, and she didn't care. Being with him was a heavenly suspension in time.

So when he pulled away, with a soft, "This is not sleeping," it dragged out a dissatisfied growl from her throat.

"No," she had to agree. "It isn't. It feels way better than sleep ever could."

"Mmm," he offered, noncommittally, toying with a strand of her hair.

With a sigh, she pulled back the covers, and slipped under them. Then she held out her hand for him. He joined her on the bed, but on top of the covers, her fingers resting in his icy ones.

Her "Night," was interrupted by a yawn, and sleep stole conscious worries from her soon after.

There were flickers of waking through the night, when she turned and found herself flung into an unexpected, but reassuringly cold shape that shifted to accommodate her.

When she woke, it was early, the sky bright and the birds noisy.

The house was silent, and she was very cold, despite the covers over her.

The hard and cold body she found herself pressed against shifted slightly, snaking an arm under her.

"Hi," she tried tentatively, voice rough with the night's rest.

"Morning." He brushed a tangle of hair away from her face. "No nightmares."

"Not that I remember, no."

"Good." His lips skimmed the top of her head in a cool kiss.

Her shiver had nothing to do with temperature.

"Why don't I let you get ready, get you breakfast."

"You don't need to, I can—"

"I'd _like_ to make you breakfast."

She paused before answering, keeping herself to a simple, and what she hoped was a grateful, "OK."

Her clothes from the day before were too grimy from unpacking and cleaning to be worn again, so she approached the dresser with some trepidation. Pawing through the contents she found a pair of jeans, and the simplest shirt possible. It looked strange, cut at odd angles, the soft fabric a startlingly deep blue.

When she found the underwear and bras, a whispered, and horrified, "Oh my God," slipped from her lips.

She wasn't sure if she heard someone laughing downstairs, and decided she didn't want to know. It sounded like Emmett's voice.

Showered and dressed, she walked down the stairs, lured by the tantalizing smells wafting from the kitchen.

Edward was at the island, lifting a frying pan off of the blue-flamed cooktop.

He lifted his chin towards the table, where a single place was set, a glass of juice already there.

"So, what would it take to convince you to take the day off of school?" he asked, sitting across from her.

Her smile stretched wide across her face. "With you, not much, but I should go." She thought of how things remained unresolved with Sally, and the classes she'd already missed. It was stressful, thinking of it all, but the kind of stress she welcomed—normal, everyday stress that seventeen year olds were meant to deal with.

"I've got work, too."

Edward's expression flickered.

"That's your 'I disapprove' face."

Now he smiled at her. "No, not at all. I'm concerned."

"Why?"

"You had a panic attack last night, Bella. You're putting yourself under a lot of stress. Taking a day off of school is not a bad thing."

"The day after I'm emancipated? No."

"A doctor's note would resolve that."

"Are you going to write that too?"

"No, Carlisle would." He sounded certain.

"I can't hide from my life, Edward."

"I'm not suggesting you do. Just take a day to rest. Feel safe. Go to work. Maybe see your counsellor before hand."

Ah.

"I have an appointment to see her tomorrow."

She took a bite of breakfast, not looking too closely at it, wanting to forestall more conversation about counsellors and therapy.

What she really needed was to be busy, to lose herself in ordinary things—like school, and work, and getting the house set up.

Edward didn't press any further on this topic, instead asking, "Does it taste OK?"

"Amazing, as always. Thank you. And for dinner, too."

"Happy to," he replied, and then glanced at the clock. "If you are determined to go to school, you should go soon."

She nodded, heart heavy at leaving him.

"Would you like company tonight?" he asked.

"You have to ask?" She grinned.

"I like to," he replied softly. "Because I want you to have a life, Bella, not just me."

"And who would you expect me to see this evening?"

"Maybe your friends?"

"See them at school. Maybe even at work."

His eyebrows lifted.

"Mike can't be a friend?" Her eyebrows went up, wondering if it would bother him.

"Your friends are your own," he assured her. "He just struck me as...not someone you were close to."

"We're not. And he isn't a close friend at all. Just checking to make sure you're not jealous."

"Oh, I am. Trust me. Of all your friends. They're human." He shrugged. "Hard not to be."

"They're no competition to you, for company, or anything else."

"Then parting is indeed a sweet sorrow."

She wanted to roll her eyes. Who quoted Shakespeare?

But she didn't.

She wanted him to keep going, and to lean forward, and—

"Off to school?" Carlisle's voice asked. He was walking into the kitchen, his own coat on, plucking his keys from the hook in the cabinet.

"Yeah," Bella breathed, recovering.

"You know the way from here?"

"I think so."

"Why don't I follow, so Edward can go with you? Just to be sure?"

"If you don't mind?" She looked at Edward.

"You have to ask?"

Now she chuckled. "Guess that's my answer."

She did wonder why they wanted to go with her, but didn't press the point.

When Edward leaned down to kiss her in the parking lot full of students, she didn't question that he was making a very public statement.

"Worried about all that human competition, huh?"

"Not anymore, I'm not," he murmured. "I'll see you later." Then he was gone, sliding into Carlisle's waiting car, and she was alone, leaning against the side of her truck, watching them disappear.

"Hey," a familiar voice called.

"Sally," Bella said, looking at her friend. Sally's face was pinched with worry, and she had her arms wrapped around her books.

Bella knew that bodily expression. She didn't even think to hesitate, but moved forward, arms open in invitation.

Sally rushed into it.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into Bella's chest. "For freaking out on you the other day."

"You didn't," Bella said. "It's OK. You had an awful time. I had less. I wish I could have taken some of that from you."

The warning bell rang out, and they stayed in their embrace, until Sally pulled away. "We should go. Don't want to be the falling ex-whores now, do we?"

Bella smiled. "Nope. We're academically excellent whores."

Both of them snorted at their dark humour, and then began walking towards their respective buildings.

At lunch, Jessica said, "So, you and Edward Cullen, huh Bella?"

"Mmm," she said noncommittally, chewing her apple.

"Seems to be pretty serious," Jessica went on, looking over at Mike.

Bella only nodded politely to Jessica, not wanting to give her more information than she needed.

Mike didn't exactly frown, but hid his expression in a mouthful of food.

"You must've spent the night with him, to arrive together?" Jessica added.

Everyone else at the table looked at Jessica briefly, and then away.

Bella blushed angrily, still intently chewing.

"How're things with the Blacks?" Angela asked, clearly trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"I moved out, so I'm not exactly sure."

"You moved out?" Mike asked, his voice tinged with surprise, and a smidgen of envy.

Bella nodded, wishing everyone would just talk about, or to, someone else.

"Really?" Sally asked quietly, beside her.

Bella glanced at Sally, eyes full of information.

Sally nodded, understanding exactly what had precipitated it. Her own minute shake of her head told Bella that all was well in her own home.

"Think I'm going to get to class early," Bella mumbled, standing.

"See you at work later!' Mike called, as she walked away.

They were halfway through an eyelid drooping lecture on the Great Depression when the classroom phone's ring startled the entire class out of their afternoon stupor.

"Uh-huh," the teacher mumbled into the receiver. "Bella, can you go to the office, please?"

Bella looked up at the teacher warily, wondering what this summons was about.

When she went to move away from the desk, the teacher said, "Best to take your things."

Bella's stomach dropped. If he expected her to miss the rest of class, this was nothing good.

She walked slowly to the office, bag over her shoulder, trying to produce good, and rational reasons for this summons.

She hadn't come up with any, so when the office came in view, and she saw the familiar shape of a uniformed Mark Barclay, and Pam Stevenson beside him, she froze.

The urge to run was strong, and it became stronger when they turned and saw her.

"Hi Bella," Pam said. "Sorry to bother you at school."

Bella looked at Mark, her breathing becoming shallow and quick.

"Why don't we go inside?" Pam asked gently.

"Why is he here?" Bella growled, remembering the last time Pam had brought a police officer to her door.

"Let's go inside," Pam said again.

"It's nothing bad, Bella, I've just been asked to…" his face twisted, "observe."

There was no way this wasn't bad, but he hadn't moved to block her, or compel her movement.

"You first," Bella said, gesturing ahead of her.

Mark nodded to Pam, and they moved ahead into the principal's office.

"Thank you, Mr. Green, for arranging this," Pam said softly. "So, Bella, unfortunately—"

"I thought you said there was nothing bad?" Bella interrupted.

Pam frowned a bit. "It's not, but your emancipation request was denied by the judge."

"What? I thought—"

"I did too," Pam sighed. "But—"

"The judge had at least seen sense, when he phoned me," Mark interjected, looking at her.

Bella closed her eyes, willing herself not to say what was on her mind.

Pam cleared her throat. "He knew your dad, Bella. He didn't agree with my assessment. I'm sorry."

But Bella was already racing ahead to what the very real implications would be.

"I can't go back to the Blacks."

"I understand," Pam said softly. "But you do need to be in care, and the judge was very clear that this happen today. I've made arrangements for a family in Port Angeles. We can go right now."

"Port Angeles? There must be something closer—I have work, and how am I going to get to school?"

"It's difficult to get long-term placements on short notice, Bella—"

"What if there's a family here that will take me?"

"All the placements here—"

"What about the Cullens?"

"They're registered for short-term, emergency care—"

"What if they say yes?"

"No." Mark said. "No way."

Now Pam looked taken aback by this. Very quietly, she said, "That's not your call Mark."

"What, you want to stick her with some rich kid who'll take advantage of her?"

"He is NOT taking advantage of me!" She stood, punctuating this by pointing her finger at Mark. "You arrested and dragged me off in handcuffs, and you think you're my fucking knight in shining armour? Screw your interfering in my life! You've done enough!"

"Bella—" the principal started.

"No! The Cullens have done nothing but help me—"

"And I'll see if they can take you," Pam said quickly, holding up her hand towards Mark, who was flushed, his jaw clenched.

"You may have worked with my Dad, but that's it," Bella spat at him. "You have _no_ place in my life. None. So back off."

"Call them. Now," Mark growled.

"Pardon?" Pam asked.

"Call them. The judge was very clear. She goes into foster care, and I'm to make sure it happens."

Bella glared at him, and he returned the expression, as Pam pulled out her phone, standing, moving to a corner of the office. Her muffled conversation was short, and Bella's heart was in her throat, seeing it unfold. She felt completely helpless, and despite her angry confrontation with Mark, the familiar terror was making a strong claim on her.

"Dr. Cullen is on his way," Pam said, sitting down again.

The Principal had watched all this silently, but now spoke. "Do you need to get anything, before you head home today, Bella?" He looked at Pam, and then Mark, his eyebrows up.

"Yes," she said, and then stood.

"I'll go with you," Mark said, standing too.

Bella determined that biting her tongue was probably in her best interests, but Mark's form, following too closely behind her, made her turn and snap at him. "What is your problem with me? Going to make sure I don't commit any crimes on the way to my locker?"

"I just want to make sure you're safe, Bella. That you're OK."

"And you think hassling me, and not letting me live my life are going to help with that?"

They'd reached her locker, and she was stuffing books into her bag.

"I think making sure you have adults around to help you is good, yes. And your father would have my hide if I did less for any kid that's been through what you have, let alone his."

She stood, facing him. "My father's dead. You don't get to say what he'd want, but you can sure as hell listen to what I do. I don't want you interfering in my life, and abusing your authority to do it."

He leaned in, so that he was an uncomfortable few inches from her face. "I will do right by your dad, Bella, even if you don't like it. And if I need to use my badge to get it done, I'll do that to. Keep your nose clean. Live your life. Make him proud. I won't bother you for any of it."

"Yeah. I'm sure he'd be thrilled that I'm living with my boyfriend than in my own house."

Mark's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as they walked back towards the office.

In the distance, two perfect forms walked towards them at pointedly human paces: Edward, and Carlisle.

All the anger left her, and it was relief, and then an embarrassing urge to cry that took up residence in its place.

That was not happening in front of Mark.

Inside the main office again, Pam and Carlisle engaged in a quiet conversation over the paperwork she'd pulled from her bag.

Edward had only greeted her silently, eyes full of worry, and then squeezed her hand in his.

Mark kept shooting them disapproving looks from his side of the room.

"That's everything," Pam said. "Bella, if there are any concerns, please call me."

Bella refused to take the card she offered. She'd had enough of the woman's help.

"Thank you," Carlisle said to her, and then to Bella and Edward. "Let's go."

She made it out to the parking lot before the tears started. They were a trickle, and then a steady stream, and then choking volley.

Leaning against her truck, Edward was beside her, as she began to talk. "Just give me a minute, OK?" After a moment, she wiped at her eyes again. "Alright. I am trying to convince myself that I am not complicated set of problems—"

"You are _not_ a problem, and this will be over with soon enough. Just a few months, and you don't have to worry about a social worker, or the police, or the court case, or anything."

Carlisle had hung back, but approached now. "School's almost done, and we'll have company soon."

Bella breathed in, and then out. "I should go to work."

"No," Carlisle said.

Bella blinked at him in surprise, and then opened her mouth to protest, but Carlisle interrupted her. "I want you to think about what just happened, Bella."

Bella had done nothing but.

"You've just been handed over to our care, and what happens right now is very important, because I guarantee you that Mark is going to make sure we dot our i's and cross our t's when it comes to doing everything we should. And to have you go to work when you're clearly upset? No."

"I'm fine to go to work. People have bad days, Carlisle."

"Edward," Carlisle said, as if his name alone carried significance.

Beside her, Edward sighed. "It's not just for that, Bella, but because it brings scrutiny to us, and that's something we work very, very hard to avoid."

This brought her up short. Of course. She spoke softly. "But I need to work, I can't—"

"You don't," Edward said just as quietly. "You don't need to worry about anything financially—"

"I do not need to be anyone's charity case,—"

"You're not," he said, turning to face her. "You're a part of our family, in every sense. What could you possibly need, that we wouldn't provide for you?"

She shook her head. "School—"

"I'd be happy to pay for that."

"You—"

He pressed his finger to her lips, then spread his fingers out over her face, cupping her cheek. "Not something you have to worry about now. No work today, but just for today. Seeing your counsellor, though, would be most expected, and perhaps asking if you can have a shift tomorrow instead of today? I'm sure they'd understand, all things considered. Particularly if your foster-father makes the request?"

This made sense, much as she wanted to rail against this barrier to employment, and emancipation.

She pushed out a trusting, "OK"

And so, she found herself driving with Edward towards Charlotte's office, wondering what other parts of her world were going to seismically shift, leaving her straddling the space between expectation and reality.


	28. Evidence of Desire

A/N for 2018-11-23: Thank you to the guest reviewer who commented on what I'd been struggling to put words to - yes, more melodrama than angst, and definitely repetitive on several fronts. I came to the same conclusion when I reread the whole story from the beginning the other week.

As for Mark, sometimes good intentions come wrapped as assholes. He's attempting to be overly protective, guiltily trying to make up for his complete screw up earlier in the story. Obviously, he isn't doing so well.

If you find this chapter melodramatic, please let me know - because I've aimed for it not be. Want to hear if I made the mark on that front.

~ Erin

* * *

Bella was restless, sitting on the normally comfortable chair. She'd pressed forward with questions, not wanting to give Charlotte space to ask her own.

"Can you talk to me about anger?" she asked her counsellor, twisting and distorting the hem of her shirt in one hand..

"What do you want to know about it?"

Bella huffed out frustrated air. Did she need to be specific?

"Sorry," Charlotte said, "I'm used to clarifying things for people, not so much being asked questions myself." She drummed her fingers on her cup. "It's protective, really. Keeps you from feeling the things that hurt."

Nodding, Bella considered what this meant. She'd been angry to the point of having her ears ring, when Edward had heard her thoughts.

"Been feeling angry lately?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask with who, or about what?"

She let loose another lungful of air.

"Besides the local law enforcement and social service representatives?" Charlotte added gently.

Bella let herself laugh a little. She'd come in fuming, explaining what had happened, leaving little room for talk on Charlotte's end.

The laugh seemed to pick up the edge of other feelings, layered just under the very thin calm that had settled in the beginning of their session. She became silent, feeling those other things stir.

"Hard to think about?"

Bella nodded.

Another wave of anger surged upwards. She let it come, and then recede, searching for what was under it.

She'd felt so close—so close, to having some control in her life. Even though she'd panicked the night before, she'd at least known she could go to her own home, and make her own choices about what happened the next day.

Now she didn't get that choice. Again.

"What's going on for you, Bella?"

"There are a lot of things I can't control, but that other people can."

Charlotte nodded, encouraging her.

"It's a lot like what happened to me before."

"Yes."

Her mind darted towards some very specific memories, and she struggled to veer away, landing instead at the recollection of Edward's refusal.

Her face felt hot, and there was a slight 'pop' as she ripped a stitch in her shirt. She let go of the fabric.

"What were you thinking about right then, Bella?" Charlotte's voice was soft, and the question, Bella knew, was a suggestion. She'd told her early on that she didn't need to answer questions unless she wanted to.

"I asked Edward to sleep with me, and he said no." She flicked her gaze up to Charlotte, and then down, making sure the counsellor's neutral expression remained. She trusted her, in theory, but it was a thing that craved frequent reassurance. "He said it would be taking advantage of me."

Now she looked at Charlotte, waiting on her verdict.

"And how did that make you feel?"

Bella rolled her eyes.

Charlotte persisted. "How, Bella?"

"Angry, obviously."

"And what else?"

Bella swallowed. "Hurt."

"And?"

It was much quieter. "Out of control."

Charlotte made a quick scribble on the notepad beside her. "I think that you need to have, and feel as much control in your life as you can. But, there are some things that just aren't going to be within that, certainly not until you're eighteen, and perhaps some things, not ever."

"Like what?"

"Like controlling who sleeps with you."

Bella's eyes widened in horror.

"No, no," Charlotte hurried out. "I mean deciding who _will_ sleep with you, and _when_ , Bella. It's a mutual choice."

Bella breathed out in relief.

"But your wanting that, Bella, and pursuing it, is a completely understandable reaction."

"Sex?"

"Control over sex, and control over your body." Charlotte paused, smiling apologetically. "It's also a course of action that many victims of assault regret later on."

"Great," Bella moaned, rubbing her face in her hands. Just great.

"Can I ask, what kind of experience you've had before, in terms of physical intimacy?"

Now the blush was one of embarrassment. "There wasn't," Bella said quietly. "Edward's the first person I've ever really…" She struggled for a word, "Dated." That wasn't it, but she wasn't sure what was.

"And you've been seeing each other for a few weeks?"

"Yes."

"And now you'll be living together."

"Yup."

"But that's preferable to living further away?"

"Absolutely."

"You're OK living with him?"

"Yes."

"And if things don't work out?"

"Living there?"

"With Edward?"

Bella's chest spasmed, and her breathing picked up. It hurt, just contemplating that. "I don't know." She couldn't imagine where she'd be living would be anything close to a concern, more trying to reassemble her heart.

Charlotte's eyes felt heavy on her, and Bella pointedly looked away.

The question shook her, and the rest of the session limped on from there, so that when she left, she was glad to find Edward waiting outside by her truck.

After she pulled away from his hug, she asked, "So, what did you do, while I was there?"

"Worked on not listening."

"Good," she sighed.

There was a small smile on face. "I may be freakishly overprotective, but I want you to have your privacy."

"Thank you, that's going to be. . . well, interesting, now that we're apparently living together."

"I wanted to talk to you about that."

They were in the truck now, Edward having playfully plucked the keys from her pocket. He sat in the driver's seat.

"Overprotective," she mouthed.

He chuckled. "I don't have to live there, if you need your space."

"No, I want you there. And I think it would be. . . awkward, without you."

"If you change your mind—"

"I won't."

"OK," he said, his hand having caught hers, fingers toying with the top of her hand. "Next question then. Alice has been busy rearranging things at home. She wanted to know if you'd like your own furniture from your room."

"No, it's fine. It'd just be a nuisance to move it—"

"Bella, do you want your things? Because it's nothing really, beyond a few minutes of work. I want you to be as at home as you can be. If—"

"No, really, I'm OK, Edward. I have you. I'll be at home."

He looked down at her hand, absorbing these words, and squeezed her fingers.

Bella wondered if it was too much to say that, and breathed in, readying new words.

Edward's kiss prevented anything but a slow, bubbling moan at her throat.

"I feel the same way about you," he whispered, cold hands cradling her head. Then he grinned, sitting back a bit. "But I warn you, Alice really is rearranging everything, so prepare yourself."

"Bring it," Bella chuckled, clipping in her seatbelt. "But I need to stop at home to pack."

"No, actually, you don't."

"But—"

"Already taken care of."

Her eyebrows shot up, and Edward looked worried suddenly. "Alice asked, and I didn't think you'd—"

"No, it's fine," Bella said, biting her lip, but knowing a roiling in her gut. It wasn't fine. It was a complete invasion of her privacy. "Actually, no, it's not. I need—I know you all want to help, but ask me, please, first."

"I will. I'm sorry. Do you, um. . . want me to have her put it back?" There was no trace of humour in his voice as he asked.

"No, but thank you," she said, letting herself smile at the offer.

\- 0 -

They were laying bed, in what was now Bella's room—formerly Esme's study.

"I do not mind," Esme had assured her. "I'm quite happy you're here, Bella. We all are." She looked at Edward with a small, but knowing smile. "Very happy. It's yours."

Edward had shown her around the space, which was, like the rest of the house, beautifully appointed.

"Where did this all come from?" She'd asked, looking at the furniture.

"Alice," Edward had said, shrugging, as if this one name encompassed all.

Bella had laughed.

Now there was not enough air for laughter, but Bella didn't mind. There was enough for what they were doing, and it left her pleasantly breathless and tingling.

She doubted Edward minded the light-headed state his lips were leaving her in. But then he pulled away, as he always seems to do—too soon.

She put a hand to her lips, trying to hold the ghost of his touch there, staving off the loss of sensation a little longer.

Edward's hand lingered on her arm, keeping that near constant contact they both seemed to crave.

She was working up to asking the question that had been troubling her. It seemed important to address it.

She began quietly, eyes locked on the bedspread. "Do you find me attractive? Physically?" An unwanted blush made her cheeks redden as the words stumbled out.

When she dared look up, there was a pinch between his eyebrows. His voice was its usual velvet. "Of course." His hand rested on her cheek. "I've told you that many times."

This was true. He had told her as much before kissing her.

"You do. It's just—" A wave of frustration joined the embarrassment. Getting her tongue around the statement was not something she had much practise with. "I've never felt you be…" She sighed. "Aroused, with me."

The blush faded, and the very real fear that he didn't want her that way bubbled up to the surface, making her face its pale self again.

He didn't answer with words, instead stretching himself up and over her, pressing her back into the thick pillow.

She felt the familiar, cold, and welcome press of his lips to hers, and then the press of something else that was hard, and cold, to the meeting of her thighs.

"Yes," he whispered between kisses, "I find you insanely attractive."

The movement, and the kisses, became rhythmic, punctuated by his and her soft groans. Finally, his noises grew to a steady purr, and then a growl.

For herself, she rode a wave of feeling, lifting her to an expectant curl, poised, ready to—

And then she woke up.

"Bella?" Edward asked.

There was a diffuse light in the room, spread, she realized, from the other, lit windows of the house reflected back by the trees that surrounded the property. This dim illumination allowed her to see that Edward had put his book down where he sat, a short distance away from her.

"Are you alright?"

She didn't trust herself to speak yet, so she nodded instead.

"Bad dream?"

Her head shake was small.

She could have sworn she felt him, in that dream. It'd been so real.

God, she'd wanted it to be real.

The wanting was a near ache, felt many places.

Don't cry, she told herself.

Do. Not. Cry.

It was too late. A small trickle had already begun its rebellious journey down the side of her face.

"What's wrong?" He was beside her now, his hand seeking hers.

"Nothing wrong, it was just a really. . . good, dream."

"What was it about?" His fingers made that regular, and gentle brush over hers.

Could he see her blushing in the dark?

His other hand stole towards her cheek, touch icy against its heat.

Yes, he could.

"Um . . ."

Then he leaned down and kissed her neck.

"Did it have something to do with this?" he murmured, applying another soft stamp of his lips.

"Yes."

He chuckled. "I thought so."

She stiffened, and pressed her hands to his shoulders. "You did?"

"Mm-hm." His throat burred with the sound, the contact of their skin carrying it down the length of her body. His lips kept moving, planting themselves in chaste locations.

It was her turn to pull away.

"Sorry," Edward murmured, his eyebrows drawing together. He stayed still, like he was afraid he'd frighten her.

"No, don't apologize, I just—what exactly did you hear?"

Now he grinned sheepishly. "You said my name, and then made some very . . . appreciative sounds."

She wondered idly, if she could turn any redder than she was right now.

"That's not something to be embarrassed about," he murmured.

"Says the man who can't sleep, and then have his sex dreams heard."

His grin was lopsided and wide. "Do you want a running commentary on my fantasies, Bella?"

Yes.

"No." She felt utterly flustered. "I mean, I wouldn't want to hear them unless you wanted me to hear them, and considering you want to wait, and—"

"I'm sorry I heard something you'd rather I didn't," he said softly, fingers back at their usual post—tangled with hers.

They stayed this way for a few minutes.

The near darkness emboldened her. "You have fantasies?"

His chuckle rumbled up her arm. "Many."

That damn blush. He barely needed to hear her thoughts with her traitorous circulation.

"Was there something more to this dream, perhaps, than I understood?" He asked this softly.

"Are you attracted to me, Edward, physically?" She pushed these words out on the tail end of a brave, and hasty breath.

"Very much, why?"

This was so much like the dream, she was almost afraid to say.

Almost.

She whispered it instead. "I've never felt you be aroused, when we're together."

His face relaxed. "I'm a vampire, Bella. I have complete control over my body. Even that."

"Oh."

Now he moved closer, and she tensed in anticipation. When his arm slid behind her back, her breathing hitched up.

"I've been careful out of an abundance caution. The two desires are very . . . close." Now he almost shrugged. "I also didn't want to frighten you."

Now she laughed, openly, and likely, too loudly.

"I'm sorry," she managed, "it's just—" she could barely continue. "The idea of you wanting me, being frightening, is just—"

Edward's eyebrows were high on his forehead, a sardonic look at his lips.

"I am so laughable, am I?"

She was still laughing. "No, just—"

He didn't let her finish, and this time, the kiss was one that showed her how much he did want her, full and possessive. His body slipped over hers, and he let his hand trail down her body, leaving her panting between touches of their lips. He hitched his hand under her knee, and then used it to tip her over on top of him.

The clothes between them did nothing to mask the distinct shape his body pressed between her legs.

But it wasn't like her dream.

It was like feeling what David had done. She pushed off of him, and the bed, moving to the window, hiding her face in its black mirror. "Sorry," she mumbled, "Just give me a minute."

He didn't respond.

The glass fogged with her breath many times before she turned around.

He was gone.

"Edward?"

There was a soft knock at the door.

Bella was shaking her head, trying to wake herself up from what must be a dream within a dream, when Alice's muffled voice reached her. "Bella?"

She didn't answer, staring at where Edward had been, thinking the worst possible things.

Alice's voice was clearer now. She was in the room. "He needed to hunt, Bella. He won't be gone long."

The empty space stared angrily back at Bella.

"Everything's OK. He'll be back soon."

But everything was not OK, and when Bella finally found her voice, it was to tell Alice just that.

* * *

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


	29. Dahlia

A/N for 2018-11-30: This chapter is an ugly one, and if you don't want to read, in the second part, about Bella's encounter with / assault by David, then skip it. If you only want a PG summary of this, I've posted one at the very bottom of the page.

~ Erin

* * *

"I know," Alice said softly, when Bella began to explain.

Bella blew out a breath, still keeping vigil at the window. She liked Alice, but her prescience was unnerving.

"How much did you see?" she asked.

"I didn't," Alice answered.

Bella looked back at her. "Then, how—?"

"We hear everything, Bella." Her voice was soft.

Of course. She felt stupid, having let this slip from her mind.

They heard _everything._

And they were politely pretending they hadn't.

This was a small price for being with Edward.

Privacy.

He was worth it, she decided. Again.

"Oh good," Alice said, sighing a little, like she was relieved.

Bella turned back to look at her.

"I like having you here," Alice said quietly. "Being part of our family, but I know it's difficult."

"I won't say it isn't a bit awkward, but," she swallowed, trying to say the words. They stuck, but just for a moment. "I love him."

Alice exhaled. It sounded like she wanted to say more. Bella caught her small smile, and nod.

"Do you want to call your counsellor?"

Bella glanced at the clock. "At three in the morning?"

"I hear it's what they do. Counsel."

Bella laughed. It made her sound lighter than she felt. "Kinda not business hours."

There was a soft creak from the bed, as Alice sat on it. Bella wondered if the making of this small noise was for her benefit. Probably.

"Did he frighten you?"

Bella didn't want to turn away from the window. Its coolness, pressed against her cheek, reminded her of Edward's touch. "No."

Alice said nothing.

Without turning, Bella said, "It reminded me of something I'd rather not think about"

"I see."

"Do you?"

"No, not that way, no, but I can imagine."

Bella nodded.

"Being with him helps you, though, normally."

The smile was almost automatic. The nod was emphatic.

"You're going to be OK, Bella."

"You seem certain of that," Bella mumbled. She wasn't feeling it so much herself.

"The future is the product of choices."

Bella shrugged. As if being well was as simple as a choice.

"You don't strike me as someone who wants to keep struggling."

A tense laugh bubbled up from Bella. "No. I'm trying, Alice."

"Yes. So are we."

A lump obscured throat. She had to nod a few more times before she could speak. "Thank you"

"You don't have to thank your family, Bella. You just get to count on them."

\- 0 -

Edward was a canvas, brushed wet with the reach of dancing trees. Dark smears ran across the breadth of his shirt, reminding him of Bella's tears. Choking in an angry thing that would've been a sob, if it could be, Edward redoubled his speed.

Her mind had opened to him—like a dahlia unfurling itself to the sun. It wasn't like any other he'd ever encountered.

It was like catching a bomb. Her thoughts were a violent condensation of memory.

He'd already been so caught up in the joy of being with her, that letting his body react physically had almost pushed him completely beyond control. He'd known precisely how easy it would be to shred the flimsy cloth barriers between them, and then fantasized about what it would feel like, her flesh clothing his.

But one monster had escaped with the other. If her thoughts hadn't become audible to him, he didn't doubt she'd be dead right now.

Dead.

His hand caught a tree and the wood splintered. He kept running.

Put more distance between her and himself.

Yes, he thought. More from her, and less to the man who hurt her.

He could deal with David.

He made himself stop, bending over and moaning at the restraint.

He couldn't. She hadn't asked him, and much as he wanted at least to sate his vengeance, he wouldn't risk hurting her.

The forest floor absorbed his fisted frustration.

Her incendiary memories were struggling to escape from where he'd locked them away, and now he let them explode, her experience from months ago assaulting him.

David, as he'd presented himself, had been shown into the small, locked room, where Bella had been waiting. Been kept.

"She good?" Mac had asked.

"Looks it," the man had replied, gaze sliding up, then down Bella's nervous body.

She sat on the bed, hands clenched in her lap. Mac's promised 'calm' from the drug had descended in an eerie cloud of fuzziness. She felt half numb, an emotional tundra, barely able to absorb what was happening. The drug left her roaring up to frantic awareness, then sliding back into dumb acceptance.

The man had worn a rumpled grey suit. His shoes were neatly polished, but the soles showed signs of wear. Not new. A working man. In his hands, he had two glasses, which he'd set down on the small table. From his coat pocket, he'd plucked a small bottle of something dark and amber. He'd set this on the table too.

"Want a drink?" he'd asked, uncapping the bottle, and pouring its contents into the two tumblers.

"I don't drink," Bella had tried, clearing her throat.

He had looked at her sharply, then let a sly grin slide over his face as he chuckled. "Sure you do. Here," and he'd held out a glass.

She hadn't moved, hands still tightly clasped together.

The memory of her terror made Edward's stomach convulse.

"C'mere," David had said, putting the glass down, jerking his head towards the chair. There had been only one, and he'd claimed it. "Name's David."

Still, she hadn't moved.

"Come here," he growled. It was a demand.

She'd stood, and approached him. He'd opened his arms, making his expectation clear: to sit in his lap.

She had, gingerly. Like a nervous cat.

David's hand had claimed her hip, steadying her.

The sounds coming from Edward's throat stopped abruptly as he realized how much noise he was making. He hadn't even checked to see how far from civilization he was. He moved onwards, scenting carefully, steeling himself against the continued passage Bella's memories made through is mind.

David had chuckled. "They weren't kidding. You really are fresh."

Bella said nothing in response, focusing instead on breathing.

"Swish and gargle first," David had said, putting the small glass in her hand.

"Pardon?"

"Gargle, you know?" He'd tilted his head back and imitated with his dry throat. "Tastier than mouthwash."

She'd almost choked on the drink, its fire burning down her throat.

He'd patted her back, laughing again. "You were honest. Not a drinker."

When she'd recovered, his hand had slid lower, now kneading the flesh below her hip.

"You nervous?" David had breathed out boozily.

She'd been so afraid, she couldn't speak. Edward knew she'd kept the phrase, 'just flesh' running through her mind, trying to assure herself that it was just that: two bodies meeting, a transaction in skin. And other things.

A very intimate one.

She'd closed her eyes and nodded.

"OK," David had said. "Here, get down for a sec."

He'd pulled his belt off, tossing it the short distance to the bed. Then he hooked his jacket over one of the short posts.

At this point, Bella had taken stock of David. His hair was sandy, skin with a hint of olive to it. He had no accent, but the one of the region, and her best guess as to age was early to mid thirties.

Not quite old enough to be her father.

When he'd sat back down, he'd unzipped his fly.

She'd turned her face away, blushing.

David had laughed openly. "Nothing frightening sweetheart. C'mon, over here." His hand gestured to the floor in front of him.

She'd almost gagged on the notion itself.

Edward actually did.

When David had pushed her away after her body rejected what he'd attempted, his face registered multiple shades of displeasure.

"On the bed," David had said quietly. Too quietly.

Just flesh, she'd told herself. Just flesh.

The man laughed at her inexperience, as she sat down on the mattress edge.

"I didn't mean to sit. Take that off," he said, standing, brushing a finger down the side of her shirt. When she went to turn away, he said, "No. In front of me."

So she had, looking down at the floor, trying not to flush with shame—and anger.

Then he pointed to the skirt. "And that."

She'd stood clad in the underclothing Patty had pointed to. The underwear and bra were artfully strung suggestions. The stockings that gave up at her thighs remained the most substantial clothing on her.

Edward tried to will his mind to speed beyond this. It stubbornly refused.

David had came close then, hands brushing over her torso and then her hips. His fingers had curled into the top of her panties, beginning to slide them down. "Take them off."

She'd finished the motion he'd begun, setting the small pile of clothes aside on the chair.

"Hands and knees," David had muttered, shuffling off his trousers and underwear.

"What?" she'd asked, not understanding. She'd expected something else.

"Get on your hands and knees."

With her back to him, she'd waited, arms shaky.

The first waves of the alcohol had sloshed up against the drug they'd given, leaving her woozy and uncertain.

Then she'd felt his hand between her legs, and jerked forward.

David had let out a slow, bubbling laugh. "It's easier if you relax."

Edward let a bitter smile form at her reaction to this. It was just a thought, but it was her, deep and true: She'd fought the urge to stick her foot back and kick him where it would hurt most acutely. She hadn't. She knew her actions would only boomerang painfully back to her.

 _Here, or on a boat to God knows where_ , had been Mac's words.

Here, she'd decided, was definitely better. At least he had a condom on.

Then something that hadn't been a finger, or a hand, pressed between her thighs, and her body twitched way from him again.

Edward closed his eyes, wanting to stop seeing, knowing this was futile, pressing his hands further into the ground. How could he have been so stupid? Letting his body react that way?

David had huffed out a breath, then picked up his belt.

Bella had gasped, terrified of what he was going to do with it. As she tried to move away, he'd shoved his hand into her back. "Down!" he'd barked.

She had, trembling.

He'd slipped the belt around her chest, just below the line of her bra, and tightened it. The shrinking circumference had stolen her air, edges cutting into her flesh. He'd set the heavy buckle into her back. His hand pulled on the tail of its length, keeping her in place against him.

Then she'd felt him find the space he'd paid for. Her eyes had watered as her face contorted, but she'd remained silent.

The pain had been a surprise. She'd expected it to be uncomfortable, or sting, but not that. She twitched when he moved again.

"It's OK to cry," David had said, his hand circling at her back. Like he'd wanted to soothe her.

Edward toyed with offering such comfort while he dismembered the man.

She'd been too drugged to really fight, so when a flare of range had made her try to move a leg to kick at him, David had just chuckled, the belt and his hand exerting all the leverage he needed.

When he'd finished, David had stayed there for a bit, making appreciative sounds. "Go," he'd finally grunted. "Clean yourself up."

Bella hadn't looked, but had smelled her own blood, slippery at her thighs, and now Edward did too.

It was the perfect, and most violating innoculation against the wanting of her blood.

He would never harm her that way. Ever. That monster was obliterated.

It was the one good thing that had come from this horrific memory.

Bella had stood, legs shaking with anger and fear, and walked to the bathroom in as dignified a manner as she could. The belt tail flapped impotently at her back.

David had used the bathroom next, coming out and chuckling again at her sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to shrink into nothing.

"Pick your side of the bed," David had said, pulling off his shirt. "What's your name?"

"Birdy," she'd said, voice monotone

"I'm planning on sleeping. Birdy. You can too."

It wouldn't be hard, Bella had realized, between the drugs, and the alcohol, and everything else the day had presented.

So she'd laid down carefully, sliding under the sheets. They'd smelled clean. She'd hoped they were.

"Comfy?"

She'd nodded—the most tentative of movements.

"Good."

Then he'd pulled out a set of handcuffs from his jacket, and she'd frozen in fear.

Edward audibly gasped.

"Oh no, nothing like that," David had chuckled, the metal ring dangling from his hand.. "Just want to make sure you can't kill me in my sleep."

Then he'd grabbed her right wrist, and clicked the cuff on in a way that told her he knew how to do so professionally.

He's a cop, Bella had thought.

Her breathing had morphed into a distressed panic.

He's a cop.

Edward remembered Mark's own confused, and distressed memories of arresting Bella, and he understood now, with a mortifying clarity, why she'd slipped into a near coma when she'd been taken into custody.

David had not been immune to Bella's reaction. "Maybe just the one then," he'd said, clicking the other end of the cuff onto the bed frame.

"Just making sure I can sleep. 'K?"

She'd known his words were only spoken to assuage his own feelings.

"Sure," she'd managed.

She'd been certain he'd have both her hands in them if she'd said anything else.

David had turned out the lights, coming back to bed, and smacking the pillows around, shuffling them into various positions. She'd waited, her back to him, and then felt his hand slide over her torso, coming to rest on her chest. He'd patted around, and then fumbled at her back, releasing the belt.

She hadn't said thank you. She hadn't wanted him to imagine any other acts or constraints she'd have to show her pleasure at being released from.

Sleep, or something like it, had taken awareness from her.

She'd told Edward that sleep wasn't so easy. That it didn't feel safe. Now he understood why.

At some point in the darkness, she'd woken to David making less than careful use of what he'd purchased. This time, her hand had remained pinned above her, tingling painfully. She'd been so startled, and frightened by what she was feeling that the air came out as a choked sob. Just the once, though, because David's hand had clutched at her throat.

"No," he'd growled. "I'm bein' nice to you sweetheart."

His grip had tightened at her silence.

"Tell me it feels good." Another order. Then his fingers had released a little.

She'd sucked in all the air she could between his thrusts.

"It feels good," she made herself say through her shrunken throat.

"Fucking right it does."

His rutting had continued on, hands squeezing in other places.

This time, his finishing had left him collapsed over her, his sweat dripping onto her.

She'd wanted to kick, scratch or bite him.

Don't worry, Edward thought. I'll do far worse.

When David had finally unlocked the handcuff, he'd shoved at her roughly with his elbow. "Go."

When she hadn't moved immediately, he'd repeated himself. "Get out. I'm done with you."

But as she'd reached the door, his voice had caught her. "But see you tonight, sweetheart."

The volley of memory ended there, and Edward made himself stand, taking in air. His control was fully restored, and he turned himself, and began running towards the centre of his world: to Bella.

.

.

.

PG SUMMARY of Part 2: At the end of the previous chapter, Edward allows himself to become physically aroused with Bella. Instead of reassuring her though, Bella recalls what happened with David, and has to move away from Edward, angry with herself. Edward hears her memories in this moment. Unbeknownst to Bella, his control has completely disappeared, and he is on the verge of giving in to his blood, and sexual lust. Her horrific memory stops him, and he flees in that moment. Putting as much distance between himself, and Bella as he can, he finally stops to let the memory play out in his mind. In it, he smells Bella's blood, the context so horrifying that he is completely inoculated against any blood-lust for her. He describes that 'monster' as being 'obliterated.' While tempted to go after David, he stops himself, not knowing what Bella wants, and not wanting to risk hurting her. Finally, after being gone almost an hour, he turns and heads for home.

* * *

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


	30. Family

A/N for 2018-12-07: Thank you for all the comments and feedback, folks. Always appreciated. Just a heads up, I'll be taking a few weeks off from writing and posting. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning this story, but I very much need some time to deal with some emotionally heavy, real-life stuff.

~ Erin

* * *

He'd been gone close to an hour, when he finally returned, the house full of worried thoughts.

Jasper's were the exception to this.

They were a guiltily excited babble.

Edward listened, pulling up short, just shy of the door. Then he moved quickly onwards, only slowing to make his approach audible to Bella.

She gasped, seeing him, but didn't move, still frozen at the window.

He moved slowly towards her, taking her hands. "I'm so sorry. That was foolish of me, and I frightened you."

"You didn't frighten me," Bella sighed. "I remembered something, and then I was angry—"

"I know."

"You do?"

He swallowed nervously. He had no idea how she would receive the news of what he'd heard.

"I heard your thoughts. All of them."

"You—all, as in—"

He couldn't bring himself to say the name. "I saw what he did to you."

"Oh." She became very still and quiet. After a moment, she said, "I'm so sorry."

 _She_ was sorry?

"Why are _you_ sorry?" he asked. "I left when you clearly needed me."

Her face twisted, like she was trying to remain calm, but losing the battle. "You can't forget things. And if it haunts me, and I'm human, I just—I don't want it to haunt you too."

"I'm fine," he breathed, reassuring himself with a hand to her cheek.

She looked at him sharply. "You saw that, and you're fine?"

He longed to assure her, but he couldn't mask the truth. "No, but not because of what I saw."

Her eyebrows squished together.

"When I told you what I was, I made it very clear that I hadn't always had my current diet."

"I remember."

"You've never asked me about that time."

"It's your past, Edward—"

"It tells you what I'm capable of." He glanced at her open, trusting face. Yes, she trusted him, and even though it was what he'd wanted, he knew he still wasn't deserving of such a thing. "I left Carlisle a few years after I was turned. I resented him for . . . curbing what I saw as my natural appetite. I hunted people. I told myself it was alright because I could hear their thoughts. I took criminals—murderers, rapists, sociopaths. I had myself convinced that I was doing the world a favour, but it wasn't true. I was as wrong as they were—taking lives I had no right to."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Her hands slipped into his.

"Because I came so close to finding that man, and—" He stopped, taking in a small breath, and then letting it out, reminding himself of whose hand he was holding. "I didn't."

She swallowed. "OK."

"Did I do the right thing?"

Warm and soft, her hands rested on his face. "Yes. You came back to me. He doesn't matter."

They stayed there for a moment, foreheads together.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked softly.

"Sure."

"Why were you angry?"

She moved towards the bed, and sat on its edge, still holding his hand. She sighed before starting. "I felt like we'd made a step, and then. . . to remember that." She shook her head, like she was trying to loosen something, "I was angry with myself, for letting that in."

"Why?"

"It won't help me, to keep dwelling on it. Why, what did you think?" She looked at him, face curious.

"I thought you were angry with me, Bella. You'd have every right to be."

"Explain that logic to me."

"I told you why I haven't reacted that way to you, and then acted like—"

"A horny seventeen year old?" This was said with a knowing grin.

He couldn't help it, and laughed. "I was going to say like an idiot, but yes, that too."

"Takes one to know one." She elbowed him lightly, and laughter rocked both their bodies. "I'm glad you did, Edward," Bella offered more quietly. "I haven't felt. . . wanted, not that way. Not in a good way, at least."

He opened his mouth to object, but she lifted a few fingers, asking him to wait.

"No, I don't mean I have low self-esteem or anything, I'm just not exactly remarkable appearance-wise—yes, I know you disagree, but you—when I'm with you, I know you love me, but I'd wondered if it was more . . ." Her eyes flicked to the dresser, where a small stack of books sat, "Jane Austen than Lady Chatterley."

Edward smiled at this literary explanation.

"It was . . . validating, knowing you wanted me that way. That you felt the same way I do."

He didn't miss that she'd used the past tense, so he asked slowly, "Is that something that you want? To know when I feel that way?"

A blush prefaced her answer. "Yes, I mean, I'm sure you know when I do."

Yes. He did.

He nodded, avoiding a response to her inferred query. "I have something else to tell you."

Her eyes hadn't left him, but they searched his face now.

"Jasper thinks I heard you because you were angry."

She looked at him, offering a tenuous, "OK."

"He felt your anger, and then my. . . surprise." Shock was a better description, but he wanted to spare her further distress over what had happened.

"So when I'm angry, you can hear me?"

"It seems to fit, with the other times."

She sighed, rubbing her face. "Alright. Time to work on some anger management then."

Edward felt a stab of guilt with his disappointment. He wanted her to have privacy, but he wanted to know her in every way he could.

He focused on more practical matters instead. "There are still a few hours before you need to get up. You should probably get some sleep."

She looked at him, and then at the bed, and sighed reluctantly, like she was about to take on something unpleasant. "Yeah, I should." Her teeth had couched themselves in her lip again. "You OK to stay? You're. . . in control?"

"I wouldn't have come back if I wasn't." He let his smile flourish. "You know, you don't need to ask me to stay. You only need to ask me to leave."

"Good." There was a tiny lifting at the corner of her lips, and she squeezed his hand.

If he could hear her mind now, he wondered if he'd hear his desire to kiss her mirrored there. He didn't, wanting her to rest.

So she curled into the bed, he beside her, hands linked, letting the last hours of the early morning be silent with her sleep.

\- 0 -

She liked work.

At least, she liked the work part of it.

She liked the Mike part of it a lot less.

"So, he's like your foster brother?"

If it hadn't been so annoying, it would've been hilarious, but Mike Newton's obvious attempts to not-so-subtly disparage, in anyway he could, her relationship with Edward, were not.

"Yep," she said. "Dating my foster brother." Then, because she'd put up with a solid hour of his commentary so politely, she said sotto-voce, "It's great. Don't have to go far to make out. Besides, he's got this awesome king-sized bed. So much room to maneuver, you know?" She winked at him conspiratorially.

Mike swallowed, wide-eyed.

Then she walked away, swinging her hips from side to side.

Eat that, Mike, she thought.

He didn't follow, and the rest of her shift was blissfully busy with customers and Mr. Newton's soft requests.

As he and Bella locked up for the night, Mr. Newton gave her a curt nod. "You're a quick learner, Bella. Good to see."

She hadn't heard such praise for a long time, and a surprising wave of feeling swelled up inside. "Thanks," she husked out, nodding. She doubted he wanted to see her get weepy.

Driving towards the Cullens, she made herself take stock of the good things in her life. The list was short, and it began with Edward. Next was a home that was beginning to feel safe, then blossoming friendships, and a creeping sense of normalcy that was sending down shallow, but healthy roots.

This feeling exploded when she rounded the last curve on the Cullen's driveway.

Edward was suddenly in the truck, reaching over to kill the ignition, jerking them to a stop. His arm around her, he had her outside, and behind him, the rest of the family circled around her protectively.

"What's going on?" she said, voice shaking.

"The wolves are here," Edward said, back to her still, scanning the treeline.

"Why?"

"We're not sure."

She stood still, listening, watching their statuesque forms.

Then Edward's head and lips moved, but she heard nothing.

"If there's something we need to know, we'd appreciate hearing it, Sam." Carlisle called out.

Jasper and Emmett moved from the back of the circle.

"No," Edward said. "Stay there. Until we're certain."

Carlisle walked forward, stopping some twenty feet away from his family.

Then Bella saw the trio of shapes, and gasped.

They were huge. Bigger even than she remembered. Her hand went to her left arm, healed now, but with a mnemonic red line fresh enough to make the flesh there tingle.

"This is most unusual, Sam," Carlisle called.

The wolves stopped, leaving Carlisle stranded an equal distance between them, and the rest of the Cullens.

Edward made a derisive sound in this throat. "And you didn't think to phone her, to ask?"

"Edward," Carlisle said, his voice all warning.

Edward huffed out a breath. "They think we've kidnapped Bella."

One of the wolves growled, a low and menacing sound.

A shiver moved down Bella's back, hearing it.

Then Edward sighed. "They'd like to hear from you, Bella."

"Sure." She swallowed, going to move forward, but Edward put his hand out, preventing her.

"You can talk to them from here."

More growling.

"And let you lose control again?" Edward said, answering a silent question.

It was Jacob, she realized, the colour and shape suddenly clicking.

Her face felt hot, and Edward looked back at her, eyebrows rising.

Shit.

She was angry. Taking a deep breath, she tried to let it go, focusing on drawing herself inwards.

"You should explain why you're here, Bella," Edward said. He looked at the wolves, but his eyes swept the circumference of the property, and Bella realized it wasn't just the three wolves in front of them. They were all around them.

"My emancipation was denied, Jacob. The judge wouldn't sign off on it. They said I could go into foster care in Port Angeles, but I asked if the Cullens would have me. They said yes."

There was a subtle shifting in the stance of the wolves. Two of the three relaxed, but Jacob's posture remained rigid.

"He'd like to know why you didn't go back to them," Edward said.

She snorted out a breath. "Do you really want me to say? In front of everyone?"

Now the two other wolves turned, moving towards the cover of the trees. Jacob joined them, but reluctantly, looking backwards once as he went.

"They're going to come back as themselves," Edward murmured to Bella.

"Good," Carlisle said, turning slightly too, so Bella could see the small frown on his face.

The rest of the family hadn't budged, and the circle held its tight circumference around Bella.

A few minutes later, Sam emerged from the treeline, Jacob and Paul with him.

"You're OK, Bella?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine, Sam." She felt it now, seeing his human shape, rather than his other one. She wasn't so sure of Jacob. His face was neutral, but she doubted the feeling was.

"I appreciate you don't want to stay with the Blacks, Bella, but you have a place with us, if you need it. With Sue, or with Emily and I."

"Thank you," Bella said politely. "But it had to be a placement that the social worker would allow."

"You could've come back to us, Bella," Jacob said, his voice slicing through the air.

She swallowed, giving herself a moment before speaking. Flicking her gaze around the circle of Cullens, still surrounding her. "No, thank you."

Jacob turned to Sam. "You're seriously going to buy this? They won't even let her move. Like she can freely speak her mind."

Sam listened, and nodded, lifting his chin in her direction. "Jacob does have a point. I'd like to know you're free to leave if you want, Bella."

Rolling her eyes, Bella moved to push past Edward. His hand slipped around hers, making her pause.

"I'm sure Jacob won't mind backing up then," he said.

Sam arched an eyebrow, but turned and nodded towards Jacob, who huffed angrily and took several strides backwards.

Edward let go of her hand, and she moved forward to Sam, staying just out of arm's reach.

"You good?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Not thrilled about not being emancipated, but otherwise OK."

"And you want to be here?"

"Yes."

Sam's eyes searched hers. Satisfied, his posture straightened. "Let's go then."

"Just a moment, please," Carlisle called out.

With a last look at Jacob, Bella turned back to see Edward, hand outstretched, waiting for her.

The murmured conversation between Sam and Carlisle was unintelligible.

Edward's cold hand was the only home she wanted.

"We didn't see this coming," he said, as if he was apologizing for what had happened.

"Still getting used to the idea that you might." Nothing bad had happened. Things seemed to be settling, not amicably, but at least without anger. Carlisle, Sam and the other pack members were walking away from each other.

Then her free hand began to tremble.

Keeping her swear silent, she asked Edward, "We're good?"

He didn't answer, saying, "Let's go inside."

In the house, she headed for the kitchen, finding the juice. Sugar seemed to take the edge off of the shaking that accompanied most frights.

"That was not the way I'd hoped to welcome you home."

"Wasn't on my list either."

They were sitting by the island, and when she put the cup down, her hand remained steady.

Good, she thought. Progress.

"How was work?"

"Fine. Pleasantly busy. I even got to use a sticker gun." She mimed the action. "Pa-tchoo!"

His laugh was beautiful.

Sliding it under it were the voices of the other Cullens, now coming inside.

Esme was first. "Are you alright?" she asked softly. "I know that was a shock."

"I am, thank you," Bella said, meaning it.

Esme nodded, and then looked at the empty glass, and Edward, "Why don't we get dinner ready?"

"Oh, I can make something. You don't need—"

"To take care of you? As any foster family would be expected to? As we've just assured the pack we will?" Her eyebrows rose in question.

"Um . . . "

Esme obviously took this articulate statement as a yes, and began gathering ingredients from the fridge.

Rose made Bella jump, clanging a set of keys down on the counter.

"Her truck is dead," she spat at Edward.

"What?" Bella asked, a wave of distress brewing.

Edward glared at Rosalie.

"Don't look at me. The oil pan was cracked."

Bella was trying very hard not to show just how upset she was about this.

"It's OK," Edward leaned over. "It can be fixed."

"The engine's almost completely seized. But hey, if you want to rebuild a hunk of junk, feel free."

Rose turned and left the room.

"Does she still think I'm a danger to you?" Bella asked Edward.

"No."

"Then why is she so. . . angry with me?"

His mouth and eyebrows became inverted triangles. "Ignore her, Bella."

She frowned, and then looked at him, the dissatisfaction there clear.

Edward's face imitated hers. "I won't speak for her, much as I would like to answer your question."

This was perfectly reasonable, and Bella sighed and nodded. Then she said, "OK. I think now is one of those times when I ask you to give me some space."

Edward eyed her nervously.

Standing up, she went to follow Rosalie.

"Bella, I don't think—"

She turned to face him. "You can't buffer my relationships Edward, and I don't want you to."

His jaw worked side to side, and his eyes flicked over her face. His agreement was a gruff dip of his head, he stayed put as Bella made her way out of the room.

Rosalie hadn't gone far—just to the room she and Emmett shared.

Bella knocked at the door, which was open a crack.

"What?" came Rose's voice.

"I'd like to speak with you."

Rose sounded resigned. "Well, come in then."

Bella did, standing just inside the door.

"Have I offended you, Rosalie?"

"You? No."

As Bella looked at her foster-sister, her eyebrows rose incredulously.

"It isn't you who's given offense, little girl."

Bella half-laughed, half snorted. "I am not a little girl."

"I'm old enough to be your great-grandmother, so yes, you are." Rose continued sorting the clothing on her bed into small piles.

Bella's lips twisted. "Do you not want me living here?"

Rose paused, a hand-half way between a shirt, and a pair of trousers. Her voice seemed minutely softer. "It isn't your presence in the house that bothers me."

"Then what is it?" She had enough of the hostility. If she was going to live here, they might as well have it out now.

Rosalie sighed. "Go sit down before you pass out or something."

Bella felt fine, and her jaw clenched at the clear condescension, but she could play along. "Fine." She sat in one of the chairs by the bed, legs and arms crossed. Her position gave a clear view of Rosalie's face.

Rosalie kept sorting clothes. "Has he told you my story?"

"Edward hasn't told me anything about you."

Again, Rosalie paused. "Really?"

"Really."

Rosalie "hmphed," and went on sorting. "I'm surprised."

"Why?"

Now her face twisted, making the startling beauty in it bitter. "It's been suggested that we have more in common than not."

Bella couldn't imagine what she could mean by this.

"It was suggested that I might even be of help to you."

Bella's arms relaxed a little, but her eyebrows squished together. They had nothing in common, not as far as she could tell.

"I understand you were forced to be a prostitute."

Edward had never said anything, but Bella assumed the Cullens knew. Still, to have it stated so bluntly wasn't pleasant. She and Sally might sling the words around between each other, but that was different.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Were you a virgin?"

What the hell kind of question was that? Her face reddened—

"I'll take that as a yes."

Rose had stopped moving things about. She faced Bella now, posture perfect, legs crossed elegantly, hands delicately spread over the bedspread.

Bella gave a tiny nod, face still hot.

"I was too, when my fiancé and his friends raped me, beat me, and then left me to die in the street." She half-smirked. It's bitterness uglied her otherwise perfect face. "Carlisle found me. He smelled all the blood. Decided to 'save' me." Her fingers hooked around the words.

Bella wasn't sure what to do with this revelation, and swallowed. To say 'I'm sorry' would be an insult—

"Carlisle thought I might offer you some empathy. Advice. Emmett thought so too." She flicked at her finger nail. "I have none."

Bella stared, still saying nothing.

"I don't judge you, or anything. I don't think less of you because someone paid to do that to you. I feel badly for you, but I have nothing else to offer you. Because you're still human. You can move on."

Bella's forehead creased, as she tried to understand this.

"We don't change. We're locked in on day one. I mean, with our mates," and here she paused, smiling. "There's that, and it's wonderful—but it's. . . this is it. We're stuck. Frozen." Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at Bella, the bitterness there again. "I envy you, and I loathe myself for that. Edward knows that." She grimaced. "You're young, and you're human, and you have everything before you—everything. You could have children, if you wanted to." She looked at her. "But you've chosen to be with someone who can't give you that. Someone who's more likely to kill you than offer you any kind of life."

Bella looked down at the floor. What did you say to someone who'd swum in that kind of bitterness, for that long?

"The best thing you can hope for is some sort of half-life with us, Bella. You're so young, you don't even understand what you're giving up. It's stupid. I can barely stand to watch it."

Bella understood why Edward had kept them apart.

"Of course, Edward knows what I think. Now you do too."

Bella stood. "Thank you for being honest with me."

Rosalie snorted.

Struggling with the words, but wanting their truth to be clear, Bella cleared her throat before she spoke. "You don't choose who you fall in love with."

Rosalie's response was instant and genuine. "No, you just choose who you're with, and where. You can still choose differently." She looked at Bella, and the earnestness of this statement was unmistakable.

Bella's couldn't disagree more, but knew there was no point in wasting words with Rosalie. Her own body had made its choice the very first time Edward had touched her. There was no choosing anything else. It was him, or no one.

Turning, she walked to the door, and closed it softly behind her, hoping she and Rosalie would find a way to stay far, far apart from each other.


	31. Like us

A/N for 2018-12-14: This week, life was much, much kinder. I am grateful. There was even the gift of time, and _energy_ to write on multiple fronts. Hoping this chapter carries the story forward in a way that's worthy of all your encouragement so far.

~ Erin

* * *

Rosalie had been right. Bella's truck was dead.

Looking under the hood herself, she was confronted by its very seized parts.

"See there, and there?" Edward asked, pointing. "Those should be able to move." He sighed, looking at her, that worried dimple between his eyebrows. "It can be fixed, but it will mean rebuilding—"

"No," Bella said. She'd had enough experience with seized engines with her mother. There'd been two before Bella had figured out the importance of oil changes, and begun to schedule them on her own.

She chided herself for not checking the oil pan. Jacob had warned her about it when she'd first moved in town, mentioning it was close to needing replacement.

After rubbing her face with her hands, she sighed and closed the hood. "Rebuilding is way more expensive than just buying something second-hand."

Edward snorted.

"There's nothing wrong with second-hand," she mumbled.

"No," he agreed, softening his voice. "Except you don't need to buy anything." He'd looked around the garage. "Use one of our cars."

"I can't—"

"Use one of the cars from your foster family?"

She flushed. It seemed so easy for them to offer, to help, and to give—and she had nothing, really. Not until she turned eighteen and could inherit her parents' modest estates. That they kept offering more, left her feeling indebted and imbalanced in the relationship that was growing in size and scope.

"You've already done so much for me, Edward, and your family—"

"Hardly."

She shook her head. "I'm not even sure I want to know how much you paid for my freedom, not to mention Sally's, or what your family's spent to furnish a room for me, or buy clothes, or—"

"Why does that matter to you?" Edward asked, his hands massaging hers, as she leaned against her truck.

"Because you have done so much for me, and I have done nothing for you. And you continue to do so much for me, it feels like I'm amassing a debt I will never be able to repay."

Edward sighed, pressing one one of her hands to his chest. "Before I met you, everything had become a steady grey. There were blips in it, but life was . . . bleak. I had my family, yes, but," he shrugged. "I didn't have much in the way of happiness, and I certainly didn't have joy. Then I met you." He smiled, that stunning manifestation of crinkled eyes that bewitched her every time it appeared. "And it was like walking into a world full of colour. It was being alive—fully. So when you say we, or I've done so much for you—no. You're wrong. I'm alive to the world because of you. I can't ever repay this. And this—" he waved his hand around the garage. "These things, money, material help—it's nothing. We've had years to amass a wealth we'll never be able to use all of. Trust me, Alice tries." He chuckled. "It's just money. But you—us, life with you. If I can do anything to make your life easier, I'll do it." He punctuated all this with a soft kiss to her forehead.

She chewed on his words, and then her lip, trying to see his side of things. "That's—really hard to just, accept."

"That I love you?"

"No," she said, "That part I'm good on." She smiled up at him. "The I-give-you-so-much part." She didn't elaborate. They'd had this part of the conversation before. "You are all . . . perfect."

"No. We're vampires. We may look that way, but we are not. Don't ever forget that, Bella." His voice was weighty. "Not perfect. Simply a way to lure prey. Nothing more."

"Well I am very effectively lured then."

"Does that mean you'll stop feeling badly about receiving help?"

"No."

He sighed, and smiled. "Alright. What do you want to do with your truck?"

Now her face twisted a bit. "I think the scrap yard is probably the logical place for it." She was trying to figure out how she was going to get to school, wondering if she could get a ride with Carlisle.

"Is that what you want, though?"

She thought about it for a bit. "No. I'd like to see if Jacob wants it."

She could tell he hadn't expected this answer. His carefully managed, "Alright" demonstrated as much.

"Do you think Carlisle can give me a ride to school tomorrow?" she asked next.

"I'm sure he could, but he'd probably say no."

Bella looked up at him, her forehead wrinkled with confusion.

"Because he'd know that I would want to drive you."

"You want to be my chauffeur?"

"Oh no, I'd like to be the man that loves you, driving you to school." This time she met his lips, interrupting their planned trajectory to her forehead. "In fact," he went on, between their kisses, "I'd pretty much do anything to be able to spend time with you."

"Anything?"

"Almost anything," he murmured.

Her chuckle was deep and throaty. "Good to know."

In the morning, when they walked to the garage, hand in hand, Edward held out the keys to Bella. "Do you want to drive? Get used to it?"

"Do I need to?" she asked.

"Well, it's probably the car you'll be driving, if you need one." He grinned playfully, "Unless you want to take the Vanquish?"

She snorted. "The Volvo looks great." With less confidence, she accepted the keys.

There were more buttons and things to pay attention to in the Volvo than her truck, and she took a few minutes acclimatizing herself to them.

Patient as always, Edward waited, watching. When she turned over the engine, he smiled. "You're quick, for a human."

Rolling her eyes, she shifted it into gear, and began the drive to school.

At the school parking lot, they walked to the main building's steps. "Are you up for some adventuring after school today?"

"Adventuring?"

"Baseball."

"Like watching a game?"

"Nope," Edward said too cheerily. "Playing."

"Um—"

"Well, not you playing. More you watching us play."

Her shoulders relaxed.

Thank God.

"Sure? Is there a special occasion?"

"Not really, but there is going to be a thunderstorm"

"And you want to be out in the open, attracting lightning bolts?" she asked incredulously.

He grinned. "Near town, but not where we'll be. There's a nice clearing where we go. Big."

"Baseball. In a thunderstorm."

"Beats homework." Then he stunned her completely, leaning in to leave the ghost of a kiss on her lips. "See you after school."

She shook her head, watching him walk away, and then turned to get herself to class.

On the way to third period, Angela flagged her down, and pulled her into a small alcove by the corner stairwell.

"Hey, Bella, you know Sally's birthday is coming up, right?"

Her guilty look spoke first. "Oh, um—"

"It's OK, it's at the end of June, but I want to do something nice for her."

"How can I help?"

Angela beamed. "I thought you might ask. I was thinking we might have a girls night sleepover at our place? You know, pizza, movie, pedicures. Cake and ice cream."

"That sounds wonderful. What do you need me to do?"

The barest details discussed, they both rushed to their last classes, agreeing to call each other later for more planning.

Bella was thoroughly engrossed in wonderings and plans when she came out of the school building.

The sight of Edward, leaning casually against the Volvo, a dry-cleaning bag over his back, finger curled around a hanger, made him look like he'd stepped out of a fashion shoot.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."

"I think you'll like it," he reassured her.

He drove this time, and when they pulled onto a smaller service road, it was to park by what Bella recognized as Emmett's jeep.

She eyed this much larger vehicle more nervously. "You're driving this, right?"

"Yes. Though I'm sure Emmett wouldn't mind you playing with his toy."

Bella imagined Rosalie would, though.

"I'll take a pass," she said, climbing in, then paused, looking at the complex harness that stood in place of a seat belt.

"Here," Edward said, leaning over, quickly snapping the buckles together.

They were metal, and clanked.

She sucked in a breath, and reminded herself of where she was, and who she was with.

Her hand still startled when his brushed by her fingers.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Edward just shook his head, eyebrows nudged towards one another. "You OK?"

"Yeah," she said, making herself nod, "let's go."

It was another twenty minutes before they reached the end of the road.

"We're on foot from here."

"OK," Bella said, unhooking herself, and slipping down from the car.

Then Edward held his hands out behind his back.

She kept her "Oh," quiet.

She didn't object to the proximity, but the last time he'd carried her, her stomach had become an oozy mass. Her hand travelled there now.

Edward looked back.

"I almost forgot."

He went back to the jeep, and plucked the dry cleaning bag from it. "For you."

It was a baseball jersey, pressed perfectly, which he held open for her.

"I'm just watching, right?"

He chuckled. "Yes."

After she slipped it on, she accepted the inevitable, and took the proffered place at his back. "Slow, OK?"

"Human slow, or vampire slow?"

"Human fast."

It was a fast run, but at least she could see the things that were passing by.

The rest of the Cullens were there when they arrived.

Edward stopped a little ways from them.

"You still OK?" he asked softly.

"Yes, thank you."

She hadn't let go, and tightened her grip again, burying her face in his chest. The reach of his arms mirrored hers.

It felt right. Being with him. Like relief to an old ache.

"Come on you two!" Emmett called. "No more smooching on the baseball time!"

Edward's shirt absorbed her snort.

Esme tucked Bella behind her, with a wry smile, and a, "Call 'em as you see 'em, Bella."

Emmett tapped a metal bat into his palm. It made a clunking sound. "Ready?" he asked, looking at Bella.

"Sure, Emmett," she grinned back.

She wasn't though, for what the Cullens considered baseball.

The first crack of the bat explained the need for the thunderstorm. It went on just as loudly, and Bella was enjoying herself by the time Rosalie was called out, running into second base.

Edward and Alice froze, the ball whizzing by them.

There was a quiet murmuring and then the Cullens were in front of her, the shape too reminiscent of what it had been with the wolves. Only, this time, Edward gave her a silent, "shhh," finger pressed to his lips.

Again, Carlisle stood at the forefront.

This time, it was a pair of human-shaped bodies that emerged from the trees, moving rapidly towards them.

Their ruby eyes were shocking.

The pair stopped a good distance away.

"Baseball," the blonde woman said, "I told you!" she smirked at the man beside her.

He tipped his head towards her in acknowledgement.

"Apologies for intruding," the tall man murmured. His hair was dark, shoulder length, loose in the evening breeze. "But we were intrigued."

"Of course," Carlisle said politely. "I'm Carlisle. This is my family."

"Your family?" The woman asked, tone too colourful. Her gaze swept over them.

"Yes," Carlisle confirmed. Again, he was polite, but nothing more.

The woman made a sound not unlike a grunt, and then spoke. "I'm Danica, and this is Carl. Mind if we join in a game? I haven't played one in—well, a long time." She grinned.

The expression was terrifying, and Bella's body reacted as most human bodies would: with a shudder.

The garnet eyes snapped to her position, and suddenly the clearing was loud with bristling, hissing forms.

"She's human!" the woman spat.

None of the Cullens spoke, letting defensive postures articulate their intent.

"And she knows," the man-Carl-growled.

"Not your concern," Carlisle's clipped voice called.

"Everyone's problem, that kind stupid move. You sending written invitations to the Volturi, too?" Danica's voice was a sneer.

Edward was moving closer to Bella, so that his body almost eclipsed her, hands sliding down, ready to pull her onto his back.

She wanted to yank away, rattled by what was happening, reverting to her instinctual self, but Edward's hands were cold vices. "It's OK," he murmured quietly.

It was definitely not.

"Oh my God," Carl said, watching Edward, a look of disgust on his face. Then, to all of them. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Nothing," Carlisle said, "but if you think that way, perhaps you should leave. And not hunt on the peninsula."

"That's a lot of land to claim, even for all of you," Danica growled.

They were all still semi-crouched, like cats, ready to spring.

"Would you care to test our claim?" Rosalie spat back. "We have no problem defending it."

"Rose," Carlisle said, voice a warning.

Danica was opening her mouth to speak, when Carl beat her to it. "Let them have it. It'll be empty soon enough, when the Volturi come to clear them out."

"No," Carlisle said, when the pair disappeared, hand held up. "Alice?"

Everyone turned to look toward her. She shook her head. "They're going. I don't see anything, with the Volturi, or us." There was a flicker across her face, and Bella caught Edward's grimace.

They'd be hunting somewhere, Bella supposed. She wondered where.

Edward released her hands, turning and placing them instead on her back. "You're safe," he said, but it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself of the fact.

Bella nodded. "I am." She looked at him, and more certainly, said, "I'm fine." She was, despite seeing what she thought she'd seen. "They're not—they're not like you, are they? Their eyes—"

"No," Carlisle answered her. "They feed on humans."

Bella swallowed, nodding, preparing for her next question.

"And, who are the Volturi?"

Carlisle was watching Edward though, who was staring past Bella, eyes focused on something she couldn't see. Or fathom.

"Why don't we go home, before we get into that particular conversation?" Carlisle gave Bella a small smile.

There was a distant flash, and then a low rumble of more thunder.

Edward held his arms out wordlessly, and she accepted the invitation, rattled by his unusual silence.

The drive home was much more subdued, and when Edward passed the parked Volvo, Bella said, "wait, don't—"

"No," Edward blurted out, "someone else can get it. Getting home is more important."

"What is it?" Bella asked.

He only shook his head, refusing to say more.

Bella was feeling hurt and confused by the time they walked into the house, Edward's stony silence persisting.

The family was sitting around the dining room table, clearly waiting for them.

Edward's hand pointed her to one of the empty chairs.

Carlisle began speaking, answering her question without preamble. "The Volturi are the self-elected rulers of our kind. They keep the peace, and order."

"OK," Bella said, waiting for more.

Rose snorted.

Bella watched as Edward shot her a warning look.

"I don't think that pair will alert them, but we need to be prepared if they do. Alice will warn us, but it will mean leaving."

"Leaving, why?"

"There's only one rule for our kind, really," Carlisle said, his voice still soft. "Keeping our existence a secret. Not drawing attention to ourselves. It's why we're so careful."

"But you have—"

"Not from you."

"But I wouldn't say anything—"

"Of course you wouldn't," Carlisle went on. "But that wouldn't matter to them. We'd need to leave, and go somewhere very remote, and without human contact, for some time." Here he looked at her, and then at Edward, his face full of sadness.

Glancing at Edward, Bella saw his face was still rigid.

"Why?" Rose said, "If she's made her choice. It's what Alice has—"

"QUIET ROSE!" Edward roared, standing,

Bella jumped in her seat.

"WHY?" Rose shot back. "So you can delay the inevitable? Give her, what, a few more days, months, maybe years, before you take her life away? Don't think she deserves to know that?"

"THAT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!" he yelled.

Bella had never seen Edward like this, and while he didn't frighten her, the raised voice made her body remember things she'd rather it didn't.

There was the familiar shake in her hand. She gripped the chair edge, and said, in deliberate syllables. "What do you mean by that, Rosalie?"

Rose's gaze didn't soften when it turned towards Bella, but there was a pinch of sadness that crept into the wrinkle between her eyes. "Alice sees you like us. She always has."

She had? Bella looked towards the women she'd come to consider a friend, heart lurching at what felt like betrayal.

"Yes," Alice confirmed, voice small and quiet, "but decisions change, Bella. It isn't fair to say what I'm not certain of."

"Do you still see it?" Bella asked.

Alice nodded.

"That is not going to happen," Edward said, much more softly, his hand reaching for Bella's.

"Why not?" Bella asked, still gripping the chair.

There was a collective intake of air.

Bella looked around, taking in Edward's stricken face, and then the mixture of feelings seated at the table.

"I mean, maybe it happens because it's my choice," Bella said, directing her trembling words to Alice.

Rosalie stood. "It would hardly be your choice. He took half of that as soon as he walked into your life. You've as much choice as a family pet." Then she turned and walked away.

"Just ignore her," Edward hushed.

But Bella stood too. "I don't think I can. Excuse me."

"Bella—" His hand brushed hers.

"No." She yanked it away. "I need to . . . think."

She avoided the bed in her room, electing for the small armchair by the window.

How long had they all known? Since Edward had met her?

And he hadn't told her.

She understood Rosalie's feeling—bitter as it was. But Edward's—didn't he want her?

The knock at the door made her start.

If being like them would make that stop, she'd welcome the change.

"May I come in, please?" It was Carlisle.

"Sure." It was his house. She felt more tenuous than ever, her difference from them stark and ugly now.

Carlisle perched on the edge of the bed, fingers laced together, as he looked at her in concentration. "That shouldn't have come up that way. I'm sorry. We all are."

She nodded in acknowledgement, but not forgiveness.

"You must have questions. About what might happen. About the Volturi. Or what Alice has seen."

"What has she seen?" She looked at him, hoping for the truth. All of it.

"She said she's seen you, here, like us, in the forest. In a very particular place. But she doesn't know when."

So she must've looked much like she did now. This possible change couldn't be so far off.

Carlisle held her gaze, waiting on her response.

"And you don't want that for me." Their faces had been clear on that front.

He sighed.

"None of us made the choice for this life, Bella. It was only by accident that I was changed. Edward was dying, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett barely alive when they were changed."

"And Alice and Jasper?"

"Alice doesn't remember. She has no memories of her human life. Jasper was made—well, I'll let him tell his own story. All of us would give almost anything to be human again."

Bella snorted. "Being human isn't' feeling so good right now."

"But it won't always be that way."

"You sure?"

The shift in his face said he wasn't.

Her hand trembled, and she clenched it into a fist.

"And the Volturi? If they come looking?"

"We'll need to leave."

"How long will need to be somewhere remote?" she asked, a sinking feeling in her gut telling her she already suspected.

"Decades."

Decades. She suspected that was a polite way of saying her life-span.

"But not if you change me."

"I won't sacrifice your life to spare mine, or ours."

"Is that what it would cost, if they find out I know? Your lives?"

"Very likely, yes. Or yours. Or all of them."

"Or you change me."

"We're not there, Bella. We might not ever be."

"Might," she said.

"Yes, Might."

Bella's fingers rubbed against the chair's rough upholstery.

"I'm so sorry, for how I've complicated your lives."

"No, please, don't be. You've made Edward so happy—we have nothing but joy for your presence."

"Not all of you, Carlisle."

His lips pursed. "Rosalie is—she's struggled to adapt to this life, Bella. That isn't your fault. We all feel the loss of our human lives in different ways. Hers is just much more pointed."

Edward's knock at the door made Bella look up. His face was visible in the space between the door and the frame.

"Can we talk?" he asked now.

Carlisle had already stood. "If you have more questions, Bella, I'd be pleased to answer them."

She nodded, but the only questions she wanted answered were from the man she loved, and he was looking more anxious than she'd ever seen him, standing, and waiting on her.

"OK," she murmured, and then stood, wanting to face whatever else she needed to know on two feet, unsteady and human as they were.

* * *

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	32. Taken

A/N for 2018-12-19: Lots of stuff going on in this chapter. Let me know what you think.

~ Erin

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bella asked.

Edward hadn't approached her yet, still standing at the door, face arranged in a way she didn't recognize. Her breathing snagged temporarily on itself, and then moved naturally again. He looked at her, concern and worry clear in his eyes.

"Why?" she repeated.

Now he stepped closer. "Why would I?"

Why? She shook her head angrily. "Her visions—"

"Don't always come true," Edward finished.

She was aware her face felt hot, and that there was that ringing, simmering in her ears.

Clearly, they'd all known what Alice had seen, and still kept it from her.

Was there more? Did Edward see her as less, because she was human, or young? Did he even really respect her? The clawing uncertainty hooked itself into her chest. He'd bought her—could he really ever come past that—?

"Of course I respect you," he whispered. "I _love_ you." His exhale seemed heavy. "I've kept this from you because I thought it would terrify you, Bella, without any good reason. Why would I torture you with something so uncertain?"

Hands to her head, she breathed in and out, trying to calm herself enough to silence her mind. She wanted all her words to be ones uttered with choice, and care. With her voice.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I know you don't want me to hear."

She shook her head, as if it would shake loose her anger. It wasn't that he could hear her. It was that he could only hear her when she was angry.

"It's OK," she said. "It isn't like you can help it."

He took a step closer. They were within arm's reach now, and she held her hand out to him.

He responded by picking her up, and settling her on top of him, arms around her, face pressed to hers. "I love you so much. I don't want to see you hurt. I don't want what I am to hurt you. And to think of you changed, for any reason—let alone us. I can't—"

"But if it's what I want?"

His grimace pressed against her face. "How could you want this?" he finally asked.

"To be strong? To never worry about becoming ill, or dying, or being hurt by other people?"

She rearranged herself so she could see his expression. The bridge of his nose was puckered.

"And watch the people you love die, while you live, not aging, not changing? Not having children?"

"Already done the first part," Bella husked out.

Edward blew out a breath. "I'm sorry. Yes. You have." Hands cradling her face, his thumbs brushed at her cheeks. "But there would be more. All your human friends. It's an ugly grief, Bella."

"But there would be you."

Something pained flickered over his face. "You will always have me. No matter what"

Now it was her face's turn to crumple at its edges. "You can't keep stuff like this from me. We can't have that between us."

Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "I hear people's thoughts, Bella. I—"

"I'm not asking for the world's secrets, but you _all_ knew this. I should have known it too. Well before today."

"Yes, I should have, and I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

"I need you to promise, Edward."

She knew this was harder. "Are you asking to hear everything Alice sees?" His eyes swept back and forth over her face. "Because I see most if, and I wish I couldn't."

"If it alters my life, then yes."

His nod was reluctant, but solemn. "I promise."

"OK."

She leaned back against him, accepting this answer, and the comfort of his arms. The question of her being like him remained, but now wasn't the time to press it.

"You didn't get to finish your game," she murmured instead.

He snorted, breath ruffling her hair. "Our game," he laughed. "Not important."

"So long as you're OK with Rosalie beating you, I guess," she mumbled back.

This was returned with his fingers at her ribs, making her shriek as he tickled her. Trying to evade this pleasant torture, she slid out of the chair, and he followed her, rolling her on top of him, moving his hands to her hips. "Rosalie didn't win, because the game didn't finish. So there," he smiled at her.

She laughed, and then the spasms of it still rocking her, bent down and made his lips join with hers in this motion. Her hands traced his cheeks, and then his neck, find their way down to his chest, where he stopped them at his waist. He mirrored her movements, fingers running through her hair, and then, making her feel clumsy by comparison, traced elegant and invisible lines over her face, her neck, and the length of her back.

When her breathing became regular again, he cupped his hands at her face, and whispered, "I love you."

\- 0 -

"I just want to see you, Bella, that's all."

Bella listened, twisting the cuff of her sleeve in her free hand.

"I'd like to know my friend's daughter is OK." Billy's voice was soft, its gentle ghosts slipping easily under her defenses.

It would be nice to see Billy.

"Sure," she breathed out, feeling brave. "Sunday work for you?"

"Absolutely. Whereabouts? My treat."

She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it again. He'd be offended if she made a fuss. "OK, um, the cafe in town?"

They settled on the particulars, and just before they hung up, Bella blurted out the question that she didn't' want to be left unanswered. "Will Jake be bringing you?"

"No," Billy said after a pause. "He's . . . away just now."

She puzzled over this, finally returning her attention to the textbook in front of her.

The words were all smearing together under her blurry eyes, and she rubbed at them.

A light knock at the door made her jerk awake.

"I'm pulling rank," Esme said. "Bedtime."

Bella laughed, standing and stretching. "Don't think you need to. Stick a fork in me, I'm done."

Esme's perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in comic disbelief, and then they both laughed.

"OK, if I'm making comments like that, clearly I need some sleep."

The room felt empty without Edward, and it was partly why she'd been avoiding heading to bed.

She'd practically shoved him out the door to go hunt properly. After a few well placed comments from his siblings, Bella had realized how much he'd been depriving himself.

When he told her he was fine, she'd retorted with, "Really? Like I'm fine when I skip breakfast?"

He'd narrowed his eyes, and she could see him debating a rebuttal. If he wouldn't take care of himself, it eroded the high ground he had for asking her to do the same.

"I'll go, but only if you promise to take care of yourself too," he'd finally countered.

"Night Bella," Esme said now, resting her hand lightly on Bella's shoulder.

Bella turned, tired, not thinking, and went to give Esme a hug. She stopped, arms awkwardly half-stretched, not sure if this was safe.

Esme smiled widely, and offered the full gesture enthusiastically. Letting go, she placed a light kiss on Bella's forehead. "Sleep well."

Bella's dreams took her to places old, new, and vividly imagined. She was busy untangling a long, red string of yarn, whose place kept slipping from her fingers, when it snapped, and she was sliding, falling and then suddenly jerking awake.

The pillow she had wrapped her arms around was at the foot of the bed, and in its place, was a cold hand.

"Hi," Edward whispered.

"You're back!"

"In the flesh."

"You weren't supposed to be back until Monday."

"Missed you."

"I missed you too, but you need to hunt—"

"I did. I'm fine."

She squinted in the darkness, trying to assess his eyes.

He grinned impishly, "But I can go, if you don't want me back—"

She silenced this immoral suggestion with the pressure of her lips.

"But I'll take that as a no," he murmured, reaching around her back and pulling her closer.

Her small moan matched his, at the physical relief his proximity inspired.

It inspired other responses too, which over the lad few weeks, had become more habitual, and habituated.

When Bella's hands had last strayed fractionally beyond the territory Edward favoured, he'd again stopped her with the gentle press of his own hands.

"Too much," he'd whispered.

"For me, or for you?" She'd countered.

He hadn't answered right away.

"You said we could try," Bella had reminded him. She hadn't liked using the word promise. She'd feared the reaction it might provoke. "And I'd like to think that when that time comes, it isn't a gigantic leap, physically, but more a step."

She'd known he feared what she was asking, but she'd feared not doing it.

Charlotte had counselled small but progressive steps, and while Bella hadn't wanted to push past what he was comfortable with, she'd wanted to move forward, at least, somehow.

Because sliding backwards felt so possibly real and terrifying.

She'd told Edward that too.

So now, she knew the press of his body to hers, a sturdy piece of flesh keeping their hips some distance apart, his hands splayed around her ribcage, thumbs whispering over the sides of her breasts, making her moan.

His lips grazed over her neck, and she felt like her nails would splinter, as she dug them into his arms.

"But I should let you get some sleep," he murmured, his grin wickedly wide. "You have work tomorrow."

"You are cruel," she moaned.

"Oh no," he said, still trailing small kisses over her clavicle. "Having a job is a good thing. Even if it means I have to leave you alone to do it." Then he pulled away, laying back on his arm.

Her eyes had adjusted enough to the dark, so she could make out his outline. He looked like Adonis in repose.

With a flustered groan, she put her hands to her head. She felt completely worked up by their few, brief moments together, and wasn't sure if she'd be able to get back to sleep.

"I'll go," he said softly.

"No!" she said, shooting an arm out to grab him.

He chuckled, a low, and musical sound. "Or not."

Willing her body to calm itself, she took in several long, and deep breaths, trying to be as inconspicuous about it as possible.

Edward's hum was so quiet at first, she didn't quite catch it, but the sound grew, and she could feel the soft buzz of it in his chest, pressed to her back.

"Is that the piece you wrote?" she asked, voice slurred with unexpected sleepiness.

"Mm-hmm," he said, only interrupting the melody briefly.

She made a contended, "hmm," the pitch of her voice discordant with his own. He hummed on, voice steady in its key. This was another thing she found admiration for. Her own voice was so easily toppled from the notes of any tune, but his sailed on, strong, and clear in all its enticing velvetines.

It was into this soft hammock of sound that she entrusted herself, slung back and forth on the musical air with which he filled the room.

\- 0 -

Bella yawned her way through her shift at Newton's. While the good weather had pulled in more business, and she as kept busy, any moment that left her rubbing her eyes. By the time four o'clock rolled around, she was debating taking a nap in the car before heading home.

Edward's appearance beside the volvo spared her this.

"I wasn't expecting you," she called, approaching him.

He met her halfway to the store, placing a discreet kiss on her cheek, then leading her further away, and accepting a much less discreet one, out of sight of the store's windows.

"I wasn't expecting to join you, but Alice saw something," he said, voice light.

Too light.

"What did she see?" Bella asked, insides squirming.

"Possibly some trouble from the pair we met."

She swallowed, feeling her stomach drop. "What kind of trouble?"

"Nothing dire, but they've returned to the area, and clearly they need more than words to be made to leave." He grimaced.

"And you're—"

"Going to make sure they leave."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what else to say. Then she realized why he was there. "Do we need to leave, is that why—?"

"No, not at all," he said quickly. "I just wanted to see you, and see you home, before a few of us go."

The sudden relief left her dizzy. "OK."

By the time they reached home, Bella was too worked up to try to sleep, much as she needed to. The idea of Edward chasing after the two nomads made her jittery. He'd be with his siblings, but still—accidents happened. Being apart from him felt . . . wrong.

"We won't be long," he murmured, letting go of her hand. More playfully, he added, "And if you like, I can crash Sally's party later on."

That made her laugh. "Sure, we can give you a facial and everything."

"Cucumbers, mud, seaweed, yum," he chuckled. "I'm game, if you are." Then he waggled his eyebrows, and her nerves disappeared, imagining this.

Waiting outside, Jasper rolled his eyes. Emmett, normally so patient, was bouncing back and forth on his heels. "Hurry up, they might leave before we can have some fun!"

"I'll see you later," Edward said, brushing her lips with one last kiss. Then they were gone, and Bella rubbed her eyes, looking at her watch, realizing she needed to hurry if she wanted to get to Angela's on time.

Esme insisted on driving her there. "Just call if you want to come home. We'll be up." She winked, and Bella laughed.

"Cute," she said, grinning, hopping out of the car. Then she turned back. "But thank you. I think this'll be fun."

She hoped it would, at any rate.

Angela had proposed the spa party idea, and said that Sally seemed pleased with it. Bella was less certain. Both of them avoided make-up. Facials seemed a hair's breadth away from cosmetics.

When she made it down to the Weber's basement, though, things seemed decidedly low-key. The main event seemed to involve movie, and a pizza. Excellent. Even Jessica seemed to be on her best behaviour.

After the several small, but thoughtful gifts had been opened, and appropriately ooed over, Jessica's good behaviour came to a distinct end.

Pulling out a sizeable flask from her backpack, Jessica held it up. "Time for some toasts."

"Sure," Angela said, "let me get some juice."

Jessica laughed. "Just make sure it's orange juice. I want a screwdriver myself."

Bella looked at her, and the flask nervously. So did Sally.

"Um—" Angela started.

"C'mon preacher's kid, I think we can all handle one drink."

Holding out the flask, Jessica waited for someone to take it.

No one did.

"Seriously? What kind of party is this?" Jessica asked incredulously.

Lauren held out her hand for it. "A good one, that's what." She took a generous swig.

"Come on, birthday girl, to you, and all that sixteen brings." She giggled, as if in on some private joke.

"I'm good, thanks," Sally said quietly.

"Suit yourself," Jessica said, shrugging, taking her own drink.

Bella looked at Angela, who lifted her shoulders nervously, but shook her head. Clearly, she didn't want to make a scene.

No one else asking for the flask, Jessica and Lauren passed it back and forth to each other. It wasn't long before their speech grew louder.

"Let's do some spa stuff!" Jessica said.

"That's the plan," Angela mumbled. She and her friend Cassie were pulling supplies out of a bag.

"Ooh, you've got nice stuff!" Lauren piped up, pawing over some of the bottles. "Sally, let's do your make-up!"

"No thanks," she said, trying to hold onto a polite smile, while shaking her head.

"No, no, she's really good!" Jessica said. "Trust me, this girl has gifts!"

This girl, Bella thought, eyeing Lauren, had bleary eyes and boozy breath. She could smell it from across the circle they were in.

"I do," Lauren mumbled, picking up a tube of lipstick. "Here, try this one."

"No," Sally said, louder this time.

"Really, come here. Just let me put some—"

"She said no, Lauren," Bella said, annoyed at this point.

"Oh shut-it plain Jane, just cuz you don't wear make up doesn't mean everyone else has to follow your lead," Jessica snapped. She grabbed the tube and went to push it towards Sally's face. Sally jerked back, and recognizing the look on her face, Bella jumped up to get in between them.

The intended movement was far from actual one. Bella lost her footing halfway to Sally, and instead of moving between them, managed to fall onto Jessica, her elbow jamming into Jessica's jaw.

"Argh! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sorry," Bella muttered automatically, not happy she'd hurt her, but glad she'd managed to stop her from harassing her friend. "She said no, Jess—"

Jess mumbled something, hand to her jaw, standing.

Angela mirrored her movements. "I'll get you some ice—"

"I'm fine," Jessica growled, and walked into the small bathroom, slamming the door.

There was a strained silence, and then Cassie spoke. "Want me to do your face, Ang?"

"Um, sure," she said unenthusiastically. "Maybe you next, Sally?"

Sally nodded mutely, looking pale. She shook her head at Bella, who nodded back. Bella understood. Sally needed a few minutes to recover. Bella wouldn't press her friend with words. Sometimes they were just too much.

Jessica stayed in the bathroom. They were well into Sally's facial when a set of heavy footfalls thumped down the basement stairs.

"Girls?" Mr. Weber's voice called. "Can you come upstairs for a bit?"

"Sure Dad, what's up?" Angela called.

"The police are here, and they'd like to speak with you all."

Bella froze.

The police?

"Quickly, please," he repeated.

The girls looked around the circle at each other.

Then the bathroom door opened, and Jessica came out, heading not for them, but for the stairs. Her cellphone was in her hand.

Had she called the police?

Lauren scurried after her friend.

The other girls went too, much more slowly.

When they emerged into the brightness of the Weber's kitchen, Bella's favourite Fork's police officer was standing directly in front of them, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded. He looked displeased.

He was also looking directly at Bella, who was beginning to feel the stirring of panic.

"I've had a report of an assault." He swept the room with his eyes.

Bella felt several sets of eyes land on her, and then Jessica.

"She punched me," Jessica mumbled, not looking at Bella, where her finger pointed.

Mark sighed. "Jessica, Bella, can I speak with you outside, please?"

Bella felt numb. Her fingers twitched, she knew, but it was like she couldn't feel it happening.

Mark gestured that the girls walk ahead of them.

Jessica went first. Her gait was carefully prescribed, each step measured, like she was afraid of making a mistake.

Like she was afraid of letting on she was drunk.

Had she called the police? Was she that drunk or stupid?

Not much of Bella's thinking mind was available to estimate, or even speculate, an appropriate answer. It was too busy plotting escape routes.

The night was warm, and by the time they stepped outside, Bella's forehead was prickling with sweat.

"Here's good," Mark muttered, turning to face them.

Bella saw his hands settle on his belt, arms akimbo, and his fingers brush the place where his handcuffs sat on his utility belt.

She didn't remember bolting. She only felt the resulting smack of the ground against her bare feet as she ran. The forest, never far in Forks, loomed before her, and was around her in seconds. If voices called out, she didn't hear them. She was all burning air in her lungs and ground and narrowly missed trees.

When the familiarly cold arms gripped her, she sobbed with relief.

It was a second later, when she realized that the smell was all wrong, and looking up, screamed.

It wasn't Edward, or any of the other Cullens.

One of his hands covered her mouth, and the other her neck, where well placed fingers silenced her consciousness too.

* * *

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	33. An Offering

A/N for 2018/12/23: Folks, your reactions are so delightful to read. Thank you.

Shout out to the guest reviewer who left some thoughtful (and kindly worded) critique on plot plausibility. Ideally, there would be some separation between a deceased colleague's child, and a police officer, but in a small town, there is not so much choice available. As for Sally and the other girls not standing up to Jessica, sometimes younger people have a hard time confronting bad behaviour in their peers (I know I did) - and it is easier to let it go, than risk the peace. I imagined that everyone would want to just let a drunken Jessica blow off some steam, rather than risk an ugly confrontation. Now, Jessica calling the cops: young, drunk people aren't exactly the best decision makers, especially when they think they can hide their drunkenness well (like the students who arrived to my class, drunk as skunks, CONVINCED I would not notice. Guess what? I noticed!).

Everyone: about Mark - I let you all come to some very unkind conclusions (deliberately) in the previous chapter. You'll see why in this one.

To the guest reviewer who doesn't " _even have the words to describe how gratuitous the drama is_ " in my stories, um, well . . . if my plot lines aren't to your taste, I wish you well in finding ones that are.

Meanwhile, on with the gratuitous drama! (and there's lots in this chapter)

Cheers,

~ Erin

* * *

 **An Offering**

She felt drugged when she came to.

Very likely, she realized, because she had been.

"Ooh," she moaned, trying to move hand to her neck. A cold, and very strong hand prevented her from making contact.

"No."

The voice was unfamiliar, and this, combined with the iciness at her wrist made her stop, and become completely still.

"Do not touch."

Her eyes dared to move to the left, towards the voice's source.

A tall, pale man dressed in shabby black clothes, stared back at her. His eyes were a startling yellow. Not quite the same shade as Edward's, but she knew them for what they were.

The thought, that at least they weren't red, wobbled across her mind.

Her thinking was sluggish. She wondered if the Cullens sent him, but then dismissed it. No, Carlisle or Esme would have come themselves. Wouldn't they? Or, had something happened? She knew only something dire would take them away so urgently. Maybe someone had gotten hurt? Her breath caught on that thought. What if it was Edward?

Would they send one of their cousins to look after her?

"Eleazar?" she asked, tentatively.

He cocked his head, like he didn't understand.

"Did the Cullens send you?" she tried again.

His head tilted further, and he shook it.

"I do not understand."

His accent was strange. The intonation was all wrong. Flat. Like a morbid gregorian chant.

No, they hadn't sent him.

There was a clenching in her gut, which felt like it was sliding towards her feet.

"Why am I here?"

His face relaxed.

"To be prepared."

"For what?"

"For offering."

This was more than alarming. "Offering for what?" she asked.

"Offering."

It would've been comical, if she hadn't known precisely how lethal a creature he was.

Being polite, and patient, seemed wise in the face of this. "I don't understand," she tried.

He frowned a bit, blinking once. It reminded Bella of a snake, slow and placid. Unnecessary.

"You are to be readied, to be offered. Only to those who are worthy."

Offered to someone.

All her internal alarm bells sounded.

His face transformed. "No," he said quietly. "You must be calm. Such distress is not good." He reached out a hand to her shoulder, and she jerked back on her elbows. "I will not harm you," he murmured, and then put his hands behind her neck.

She began to kick at his midsection, then scrabbled uselessly with her hands, envisioning past horrors made present. But he only brought the tips of his fingers to the back of her neck, pressing lightly, speaking softly.

She couldn't move away, and when she realized his intentions weren't immediately harmful, closed her eyes, and hoped whatever it was he was planning on doing was quick, and painless.

"You must take the air in," he went on. "Be at ease." Then his fingers moved to press at the sides of her wrists, and then her temples. "No one will harm you. I will ensure you are safe and well."

Her breathing slowed marginally, then she realized what he'd said.

"So you can _offer_ me to someone?"

"Yes." He held out a hand, so she could sit up.

She ignored it, getting up awkwardly by herself.

The room took a lazy turn around her head, and she sank back on her elbows.

"Did you give me something?"

"Do you require sustenance?" he asked, voice curious.

"No, did you give me something? Drugs, medication?"

He looked blankly at her.

"Medicine?"

He shook his head. "The humours, they are not so well balanced, when your kind has been subdued." He gestured to the crux of her shoulder, and neck.

What the hell?

He talked like he was from another time.

He probably was from another time, her brain reminded her.

Not that it matters, she thought. She needed to find a way to get out of here.

Scanning the room, now that her vision was staying in one place, she took in the shabby space. It reminded her of the hunting cabin Charlie and Harry used to rent in the summer. The main door was visibly distressed, like it had been kicked in. The walls were grimy, and the sparse furniture equally so.

No one had been here in a long time. And no one would be coming here to check on things anytime soon.

There was no electric hum either, and whisking her eyes by the kitchen space, she only saw an ancient looking fridge—or ice box, and an old wood stove.

There was enough daylight to see by, which meant she'd been gone for at least twelve hours. Mark must have told Carlisle and Esme she was gone, that she'd run. They'd be looking, wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

It was very, very easy to doubt this.

Was this there way of making her disappear? Of solving their problem with the pair that had seen her. Saving them from the possibility of the Volturi?

She shook her head. She couldn't think so negatively. Hope was important now. They would be looking, she told herself firmly.

Edward would be looking.

"Remain here," the man instructed her. "You require nourishment."

What she required was a trip to the toilet. As soon as he left through the front door, she stood up, stumbling a little on her feet. The bathroom, as it presented itself, was rudimentary but serviceable, and featured water from what she presumed was a rooftop cistern. She rinsed her hands, and shook them dry, wiping the excess off on her jeans.

When she stepped outside the small room, the smell of woodsmoke drifted inwards, and the man stood beside her again. She jumped at his sudden presence.

"Here," he said, seeming to ignore her fright. He held out a cup of something steaming.

"What is it?" Bella asked, suspicious.

"Drink it."

"No."

"You are thirsty," he said simply. Then he looked sharply towards the bathroom. "Do not drink that water," he said sternly. "It is not good."

"I didn't."

"I know."

She flicked her gaze up at his face, making herself take in his appearance. His hair was a very light blonde, almost white. Paired with his skin, it gave him an otherworldly appearance. The stark black of his clothes did nothing to diminish the effect.

"What are you?" she whispered.

He held the cup out towards her. "Please drink."

"No."

"You will prefer I do not compel you."

She could imagine that all too well, and took the cup, sniffing at it. There were herby notes to it, but nothing alarming.

She took a tentative sip. It was sweet. A faint note of beeswax told her the honey used had been raw.

"Good," he said, nodding. "Finish that, and I will bring some food. Then I shall bathe you."

The cup stopped, a hand's breadth from her mouth. Not saying anything, Bella redoubled her effort to find a way out of this situation.

"I can bathe myself."

"I will assist you."

She held onto her no. She wanted it to mean something when she used it.

His disappearance was silent, and when she looked up again from the drink he'd left her, she was alone again.

The lone chair by the table seemed stable enough, but she took care to sit down. She wasn't going anywhere, not with a vampire keeping her. It was better not to try to run. Edward had taught her that much.

"Never run from us. Ever." He'd said this most seriously, when she'd done just that, teasing him.

Her "Why?" had been uncertain. She'd never seen him so angry with her. So worried.

"We're predators, Bella. We may try to subdue or mask our natures, but we can't ever escape them. I don't want to see you hurt by one us . . . slipping."

She'd nodded, the gesture a solemn promise.

Her captor returned again, this time more slowly, carrying chunk of rough cedar. Settled on top of it was a small fish, delicately filleted, still steaming from the fire.

He placed this in front of her, and she looked at him.

She wanted, desperately, not to remember how Charlie would do almost exactly this for her, but the fear had loosened so much of her control, that the tears slipped out before she could discipline her face.

"This distresses you?" he asked. "It is good food. Only meant to nourish you."

For what? She wanted to shriek.

She didn't.

Rather, she took a deepth breath in, and then picked up part of the fish.

It was delicious, and she was very, very hungry.

She wondered if it would be her last meal.

The bite of fish attempted to swim, salmon-like, back up her gullet, but by force of will, she kept it down.

She made herself eat more of it.

When she pushed away from the table, the strange vampire's hand gripped her shoulder. It was a hold that spoke of control, and Bella did not attempt to fight it.

"You will bathe now." When Bella looked towards the bathroom, he spoke again. "No, outside."

"No," she said, as firmly as she could, and then added, "thank you."

"You must," was the terse reply.

"I can clean myself—inside." She looked at the bathroom.

He frowned, and shook his head.

She got up and moved towards it, but his hands rested on her shoulders, propelling her outside. It was a small miracle, that she didn't dissolve into a shrieking mess. She wanted to.

When he stopped pushing, Bella blinked. They were standing near a tidy fire, where a u-shaped, open cubicle made of blankets and branches had been erected.

"Here," he said, pointing to the tin wash-tub that sat in its semi-private space. "I will give you the things you need from beside here."

Where he wouldn't see her unclothed.

"I will not harm you."

Part of her mind, not riled with panic, accepted this.

"But someone has harmed you before," he added softly.

She nodded.

"I will keep you safe. No one will harm you."

She couldn't help it. "No, you're just going to give me to someone to harm."

"You do not understand," he said softly. "Never for harm. Such offering . . . it is an honour."

"I'll forgo it, thanks."

His tone shifted immediately. "Watch your tongue, mortal. You will not speak of what you do not understand." He pointed to the tub.

Faced with the prospect of doing so alone, or with his 'assistance,' Bella complied, undressing and getting into the tub. It was big enough to sit in, and the water was warm.

A white arm passed her soap, or what she took for it. It was yellow, and grainy, but didn't smell of anything. Hand-made. She washed quickly.

She hadn't seen her clothes disappear, but had seen something cloth flung over the screen. It was a long dress. Old. The soft cotton pattern faded. It was clean, though. She slipped it on, emerging to find the strange vampire standing, hands at his sides, like a soldier, waiting.

Now what?

"Would you care to walk?" he asked.

"Where?" And why?

"There is a place, not so far from here. It is pleasing to the eyes."

"Why?"

"So you may enjoy it."

She didn't believe him. "You've abducted me, and told me I'm going to be 'offered' to someone, so I'm having a hard time believing that."

He ignored this, instead holding out his hand, as if he wanted her to take it. The thought of doing so willingly made her shudder. She kept hers pressed around her midsection.

"The ones that had you," he said, frowning. "They have broken faith with what they are." He shook his head. "But I will not. You will see. Come."

Did he mean the Cullens? "What do you mean, the ones that had me?" she asked nervously.

"Those who look like me."

Yes, the Cullens.

"How did they . . . break faith?"

His gaze was piercing. She almost twitched under it.

"They kept you, but not as they should. They had mates." He spat this last word out with disgust. "They were tempted by you. Unfaithful."

"What are you?" she asked again.

"I am a Dacian. As are they."

"They're vampires—"

"NO!"

She stepped back.

He calmed himself immediately. "No," he offered much more quietly. "They are not. I apologize for frightening you. It is my duty to keep you well."

"Why do you need to keep me well?" Bella asked, the stomach-churning suspicion growing.

"Because this is my duty, and I will keep it, so that you may be offered."

"Offered for what?"

"To walk among the Gods, child." He said this, as if it were obvious. "But the hour will grow warm for you soon." He picked up a bag sitting near the rocks. "We will go now."

Because there was no choice, she made herself take a step in the direction he gestured to, moving towards an uncertainty for which she could only feel a distressed apprehension gnawing at her bones.

Find me, Edward. Please.

\- 0 -

It felt like a mark of the deepest shame, to have to call on the wolves. Edward, and the rest of the Cullens had tried, repeatedly, amid the growing scents laid by the other human searchers, to find a whiff of Bella's, or of what had taken her.

They'd found nothing.

Alice had stopped, gasping abruptly, in the middle of their other hunt, leaving Edward brimming with anxiety.

"Where?" he'd asked, seeing what she was seeing.

"I don't know," Alice had muttered, her thoughts rippling with images. The forest, somewhere. A small cottage or cabin. It could be anywhere.

"Oh my God," he'd choked out, hands in his hair, pacing, seeing what she had.

 _Look, Edward,_ Alice had intoned. _Look again._

He had, at the creature's profoundly yellow eyes.

It meant nothing. He knew exactly how tempted he'd been when he met Bella, and that this creature's past choices were as likely to stop him, as the air was to impede Edward's frantic run back to Forks.

When they'd reached the Weber's property, there was already a scrum of people there, searching—pointlessly, he knew—for Bella.

Mark Barclay was directing the search effort, a map and lights out on the Weber's porch. His mind, however, was fractured in its attention. At the corners of his consciousness were blips of images—of Bella running, of Jessica's blood-shot eyes, and of her furious parents.

In Mark's memory, Edward saw that the anxiousness of all present had shifted to anger, when Jessica's parents had arrived.

They hadn't realized Jessica had been drinking, and when that became apparent, along with the bogus assault claim she'd made, their angry attention had turned to their daughter.

When Bella's disappearing form appeared in Mark's memory again, it was tinged with guilt. He'd meant to curry some favour with her, letting her see him chew Jessica out for her idiocy, but it had backfired spectacularly.

Mark rubbed his face, trying to hide his guilty frustration. When Sam and Paul thumped up the porch steps, his features smoothed out, leaving his professional mask in place. "Coming to help search?"

"Yep," Sam said, cooly eyeing Edward's distant form. His thoughts were full of condescension for what he perceived as the Cullen's incompetence.

Edward didn't care. So long as they helped.

"Make sure you've got lights, and stay in pairs." He pointed to the map laid out on the patio table. "Cover here, and here. Report back once you complete the area, and we'll plan on from there." He went on with more instructions, Sam and Paul nodding blandly. Such instruction was redundant.

Alice stayed close by, thoughts a wild frenzy of images. At least, in all of them, Bella was alive. Frightened, but alive.

Sam's thoughts numbered more wolves coming. Trailing, like the last wolfy form to join them, was the thought that Jacob would arrive soon.

Edward kept his grimace internal. The last thing he wanted was some hot-headed idiot messing up finding Bella.

 _Just like you've messed up in finding her_ , his mind supplied.

Sam's thoughts revealed Jacob had left—wisely—for some time away. Or rather, was sent by Sam to cool his jets at such a distance that he wouldn't be tempted to cross lines, or stir up trouble.

Edward was so distraught, his face was less carefully guarded in the expressions it wore, and Sam caught this one.

"You want us, or not?" he challenged Edward, now walking in his direction.

"Thank you for coming," Edward said woodenly.

Paul snorted in reply. "Least we didn't lose her."

Edward growled, low enough to be inaudible to the busy humans around them, but loud enough for wolf ears.

"Don't," Sam said to Paul, and then to Edward. "She's one of ours, Cullen. We didn't come for you. We came for her."

It seemed wise to say nothing else, so Edward nodded, and moved back towards the wood, joining his family in their ever widening circle, swirling further and further out, in what felt like the most redundant, and pointless of frantic dances.

\- 0 -

"Here," the Dacian said, and handed her a sturdy black book, a pencil tucked into its centre.

Taking it, Bella realized it was a sketchbook.

He'd brought her a sketch book?

"How did you know?"

"I observed you."

He'd been watching her. She shivered.

"For how long?" She pretended to look out at the small glade he'd taken her to.

"I followed the pair that found you. To see if they were worthy."

"And . . . were they?"

"No." His gaze remained distant, sweeping back and forth over the space at regular intervals.

"Why not?"

Now he looked at her. "Would you behold the face of God, mortal?"

She decided she wouldn't, and tried to sketch the plant in front of her. After a moment, she asked, "So, you don't have anyone to . . . offer me to."

"No."

"You could simply return me."

He hissed at this suggestion. "Blasphemy!"

Bella moved the pencil across the page mindlessly, trying to look interested in the mangled drawing she was producing, wondering why this agitated him so much.

"I wouldn't say anything," she said quietly, risking a glance in his direction. She looked away when she saw his eyes on her.

His face, which to Bella, had been marked more by its lack of expression, than any particular emotion, now wore some strong emotion, pulling his features into an unsettling fervour. "I am made to serve the Gods, and the . . . _creatures_ that had you, were made likewise." He traced the shape of two infinite loops, set crosswise at his neck. "But even my touch marks you. Sets you apart." He looked at her directly, face uncomfortably close to hers as he bent himself over. "Your human life is gone, child. But its end will have meaning. I will see to that."

Like Hell, Bella thought, but only gritted her teeth in response.

He was true to his word, in terms of meeting her physical needs, and when the sky finally darkened, she was relieved to go to sleep. The day's fears had exhausted her, and her traitorous body sunk into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming, of Jacob, and Paul, and the noises their fight had made, when a tight and cold embrace woke her, the night's outside air less cool over her body.

"Quiet," the Dacian whispered, his solid hand over her mouth.

"EDWARD!" she shrieked.

Her eyes had adjusted, but it wasn't Edward she was seeing. It was two vampires, and one wolf, forms snarled together in battle.

The wolf was losing.

It was favouring a paw, still nimble enough on three others, but clearly disadvantaged.

The woman—Danica—was circling, her now one-armed mate nearby, good side towards the fight, eyes searching for something.

His arm, Bella realized. Emmett had told her about this. If he found it, he'd reattach it.

"Help the wolf!" she tried to tell the Dacian, but he either couldn't understand her, or wouldn't listen.

The woman lashed out with her hand, but the wolf jumped back, leveraging itself onto its haunches and leaping forward, snapping at the woman's exposed hand.

She roared as the tips of her fingers disappeared in its mouth.

The man—Carl, Bella remembered—yelled out to the Dacian. "What is wrong with you? Help us, and we can share her." He lifted his chin to Bella, "Or we can feed you to the fire you idiot!"

The Dacian didn't move.

Bella was trying to figure out what the odds were on this wolf, when the clouds parted, and the moonlight filtered through the trees to illuminate the large russet form she knew by sight.

"Jacob?"

The wolf snarled at the attacking man, this time snapping off his lower leg.

Then, Bella couldn't see anything else, because she heard the voice she'd been longing for.

"Give her to us."

The Dacian's grip didn't shift, but his posture did, turning, Bella still wrapped in his arms.

Edward stood directly in front of them, Carlisle and Alice on either side. The fight brewed on behind them, sounds rapidly shifting, and then diminishing.

"Blasphemers!" the Dacian roared.

Edward stared, and Bella tried, silenced by the Dacian's hand, to muster enough anger to make him able to hear her. Her fear, though, was too tightly wound, ringing itself around her, just like the Dacian's arms.

"I know who you seek," Carlisle said, his voice a surprise to Bella.

"What do you know, blasphemer?" the Dacian hissed back.

"You're a Dacian."

The Dacian actually turned and spat on the ground. "You dirty the word with your unclean mouth."

"We are not blasphemers, Dacian. Surely you see that." Carlisle fingered his neck, and Bella felt, more than heard the sharp intake of air at her back.

Edward continued to stare, his face stony and silent.

"You see?" Carlisle asked.

"Yes," the Dacian said, but warily. "Then how do you know me?"

"The Volturi spoke of your kind."

There was a spitting noise behind her, and Bella flinched.

"Barabe!" he muttered.

"To some," Carlisle conceded. "You've kept your ways. Been faithful."

"Yes."

"Your masters would surely welcome your returned services. They've gone without a long time."

Bella felt the Dacian nod.

"Would you like our help, in finding your place?"

Another nod, and then another, faster. She could hear him swallow. Her own breathing hitched up a notch.

"We will help you, but first, we need to solve our own problem."

"And what is that?"

"You're holding it."

Bella's heart stopped.

"If we are to find your masters, she," Carlisle gestured to Bella, "cannot remain."

"Why not?"

Bella wondered the same thing, though much more fearfully, her heart lodged in her throat.

"The Volturi—" Carlisle began, then pausing, waiting for the Dacian's growl to end. "Destroy any who share the secret of our existence, and any humans who know it." He looked at Bella. "We can hardly seek their help—"

"I don't need the devil's help to serve heaven, fool."

"No, but they know where your masters are, at least, the ones they've let live."

Above her own, fractured heart beat, Bella could hear the Dacian swallow hard behind her.

"My family is . . . weary of this threat. We welcome it's removal. Permanently."

Carlisle? Bella wanted to ask, but couldn't even fully form the thought. Of course. She'd been an imposition. She didn't dare look at Edward, studying the ground in front of her.

This was it.

She'd been on borrowed time since she met him. Underneath all her attempts to convince herself otherwise, she knew she had nothing to offer him, and the final blossoming of this denial was in front of her. She was a loose end, and one that was very soon going to be cut.

She just didn't realize how literally, until the Dacian produced a knife. Its steel reflected the scattered moonlight.

"Then return it to the earth," the Dacian said, "as we do with the excess."

"Edward?" Carlisle asked, turning to him.

Edward nodded, and moved forwards.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Carlisle said, "It shouldn't have come to this. I'm sorry I didn't end it earlier. More humanely."

She closed her eyes. Half of her heart was breaking at the betrayal, and the other was condemning herself for her idiotic delusions.

"I'm sorry too," Edward said softly.

Her eyes flung open, and she made herself search his. They were a silent black in the night's darkness.

"But I'll make it quick," Edward whispered, as the Dacian's grip loosened, and Edward's tightened. The dull edge of the knife was cold at her neck. "I promise all of this will be all over soon."

Then she was flying, the knife gone, her body curled into Edward's rigid arms, and they were twenty yards away.

Bella barely had time to understand what was happening, before Carlisle's loud, "Alice, no!" made Bella whip her head back towards where the Dacian stood.

Alice's hands were wrapped around his head, legs squatting on his shoulders, an open mouth and sharp teeth communicating her intention. Jasper and Emmett stood on either side, pinning his arms.

"End it!" Edward growled.

"No," Carlisle said again, more quietly. "We made a duplicitous bargain, but we made a bargain nonetheless."

"You can't be serious," Edward said.

Bella was holding onto him, trying to make sense of all of this. So far, she had grasped that no one was going to kill her, and that Edward was here. She was safe. Anything else seemed extraneous.

A diffuse growling was bubbling in Bella's peripheral hearing. It morphed into a circle of wolves, now moving closer.

"Jacob?"

"He's fine," Edward said, his fingers stroking her face. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Are you?"

"Yes," she hushed back, hands reaching for his face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "We had to convince him—"

"It's OK. I understand."

Their small moment was interrupted by louder growling.

"They don't want us to let him go, Carlisle," Edward said.

"Doesn't take a mind reader to figure that out," Emmett mumbled.

"He didn't harm her," Carlisle said. "And he even protected her from those who would."

"He took her," Edward growled.

"Yes, and he'll know not to trouble us again."

"Treacherous liars!" the Dacian hurled at all of them.

"Only to save her," Carlisle said. His voice was even and calm. "And we'd do so again. No one harms our family." Then he looked around the circle of wolves. "He hasn't hurt a human. You can see that yourself."

"He was more than willing to, Carlisle."

"Only because we suggested it," Edward's father said softly. Then to the Dacian, "You'll go now. Find your masters if you please. But you will not trouble us, or humans again. Will you?"

"No," the Dacian said.

To Bella, he seemed remarkably uninterested in his own fate, his eyes only flickering at the mention of masters she never wanted to meet.

"He hasn't broken the treaty we keep. He should be free to leave," Carlisle said, now to the gathered wolves.

As Bella looked at Edward, his eyebrows rose. "They accept." THere was a loud growling at this. "Not without protest, but they accept."

Alice hoped down from the creature's shoulders, and Jasper and Emmett released him, and then he was gone.

Edward didn't even say anything, they were running, Bella's hands fisted into his shirt, eyes shut against the movement she knew would take her home.

* * *

Author's postscript: If you're wondering what happens to this odd character, you can read on in my one-shot, "The Dacians"

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	34. Found

A/N for 2018/12/26: Still with me? A joyous second day of Christmas with you - and happy reading!

~ Erin

* * *

"Edward," she whispered, as he set her down in her room.

"Yes?" he said, face still strained with worry.

"You need to change me."

He blinked, staring at her.

"No, Bella," he whispered back, horrified by the idea. "No"

"Then I can't do this," she choked out.

That slithering dread, the one that had taken up residence when she was missing, reappeared. He said nothing for a moment, trying to hold onto her with his eyes. Finally, he dared to ask, "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"

"I can't stay, attracting danger, being vulnerable, being your weak link."

"You are not a weak link, Bella. You're so much more than your human form." He shook his head. "You don't want this," he waved his hand at his chest, "this frozen half-life—"

"I don't need another man telling me what I need, what I want, what my life should be." She took a deliberate step back from him.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do with your life, I'm just trying to make sure you have one."

She looked down, taking a breath, and then releasing it. "OK." It wasn't a sound that indicated agreement. Turning from him, she picked up the phone from its cradle, and fishing around on her desk, pulled out a small card—Pam's, he saw. Her back to him, she punched in the numbers, and Edward's stomach slid further down his midsection.

The call picked up on the first ring. "Hi Pam, it's Bella Swan. . . . yeah. Fine thanks. Yes. . . . I know. . . . sorry to have made everyone worry. I . . . yeah, I'll talk to Charlotte. . . . I was wondering if that placement in Port Angeles was still available . . . "

Edward moved to stand in front of Bella, hands on the desk, his face in front of hers, all its lines begging her to stop, to not leave.

She met his eyes, and something shifted there. "It's just . . . the job prospects aren't so great here. . . yes, but hardly a long-term thing. Maybe you could look? . . . just want to explore my options. . . . thank you. Yes. Talk to you soon."

She hung up.

"You are asking us to take your life away, Bella. Your _life_. We can't put it back if you change your mind."

"I won't change my mind."

"Your life, Bella. We're dead, you know this. We don't change—"

The layer that obscured her thoughts disappeared, and he could hear what the Dacian had told her.

"My life is already gone, Edward. I'm in your life, and if you think what happened yesterday won't happen again, you're deluding yourself. I'm dead, either because someone slips up when I get—I don't know, a papercut, or another of your kind finds me because they find you, or because they tell the Volturi."

She turned, and pulling out her bag, began stuffing things into it. "It's so obvious!" she yelled. "How can you not see this?"

What he could see was her preparing to leave him, and having just plucked her from danger again—found his living heart again, he couldn't have her leave, even if the cost was offering an ending that made him shudder in horror.

Alice's vision had remained unchanged. He'd seen it as they had searched, and feared it would be at the hands of the one who'd taken her. He hadn't made peace with the idea, but Alice had told him it was better than her being dead.

Or now, her leaving.

He pressed his hands gently to her arms, the gesture begging her to be still. His voice shook with feeling, as he spoke, "You're right. It is is not my choice, what you do with your life, and I won't stop you." He had to breathe deeply before saying the next words, "If you want to be like us. But I'd ask for time."

All her movement stopped, as she stared, stunned, at his face.

He could see the comprehension blossoming in her shifting features.

She hid her surprise quickly.

"Time for what?" she countered.

He sighed. The notion of it pained him. "To bring your human life to a close, for you to finish school. It would draw too much attention to do otherwise."

"But what about the Volturi?"

"Alice will see, if they'll be a problem, which is very unlikely. If they are, then the timeline will change, but," and he felt his face twist painfully. "I want you to live long enough, that you won't ever resent us for stealing your life. Because that's what this will be." He rested his forehead on hers, breathing in, sighing.

"You're trying to delay," Bella said, trying to pull away. His grip remained, gentle, but pleading.

"No," he whispered back. "Give me a few years, please."

"No."

"Please, Bella. You've already asked for something else, too, which I've said I will, but—"

She understood, and blushed, thoughts suddenly full of other things. "Will this change that?"

"No, but I don't want to rush you on any front."

"I'm not being rushed. Not if we're talking years."

"I do have a requirement, if you want it to be me, to change you, though."

Now she looked suspicious. "What?"

"I want you to marry me."

"WHAT?" she spat.

Now it was his turn to stop, surprised, and moderately alarmed. This was not the reaction he'd anticipated, despite the timing.

He didn't frown, but his eyebrows pinched together, and he watched the emotions swimming over her face. "Is marriage so scandalous to you?"

"No, just—" she fumbled for words, blushing intensely.

Now he grinned.

"Are you laughing at me?" Her face grew serious again.

"No," he said, and hoping to show her exactly what he felt, and wanted with her, bent down and kissed her, not with the passion that flared in him, but with the softness he hoped to offer her. The resolute presence he would be.

It left her, as it always did, mildly stunned, and her pupils flickered in their focus before settling again.

"Marry me," he whispered.

"People our age don't get married, Edward."

"Yes, they do. They would have in my time."

Now she blushed again. "Things have changed a bit since then."

"Certainly," he acknowledged, the grin widening.

"Now, teenage marriage is the capstone of 'Look-at-me-I'm-knocked-up'."

He laughed. "No issue there."

"My parents didn't exactly have a good run at marriage young."

"That doesn't mean we won't."

"Yes, but—"

"Is that a yes?" he asked playfully, knowing it wasn't, letting his lips stamp sweet kisses along her neck. She made an incomprehensible sound in response to his touch. "You ask for eternity, but marriage—a simple ceremony, a piece of paper, this is the sticking point for you? What is it that frightens you about this?"

"I'm not frightened."

"Then marry me. Bella." He faced her again, taking her hands in his. "I will never leave you. I will never lose faith in us. And I want to declare to the world, in every possible human way, that we are one, and that its forces have no compulsion over us."

It was her that stepped up on her toes to reach his lips, small tears making a path down her cheeks.

No, he thought, no. There could be no sadness in this.

"When Alice showed me you'd been taken," he whispered, cheek pressed to hers. "I felt completely dislocated. Like someone hadn't just carved my heart out of me, but as if the world didn't make sense anymore. There were no boundaries, nothing. The idea of you being hurt, or gone. No. I couldn't. And to have you back," he breathed out, "I'm found with you. The world is righted. The sky is up. The sea is level. Everything is right—with you."

"Yes," she whispered, the tears not stopping.

He blinked.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

\- 0 -

"We couldn't smell him," Edward said, watching her fumble with her piece of toast. She saved it, just, swiping a lick of peanut butter before it landed on her shirt. "He was very careful not to touch anything with you, either, so we couldn't track your scent."

"So how did you find me?" she mumbled through her mouthful.

"By chance. Jacob followed the scent of the pair we'd gone to hunt."

She swallowed, and he followed food as it slid, a constricted lump, down her throat. She understood how razor thin her rescue had been.

"Once he found them, he alerted the rest of the pack, and they us." He shook his head. "He was reckless, attacking on his own."

"He saved me, Edward. I don't think the—," she fumbled for the word.

"Dacian."

"I don't think he could have defended me from the two who attacked."

A familiar guilt gripped him. "No, I suppose not." He would give Jacob that small piece of credit.

"Jacob's OK?" She asked, the tremble in her voice telling him she was afraid to. "And the wolves?"

"Yes, they're all fine."

"Oh good," she sighed. Then she dropped her toast onto her plate. "Wait, do the Webers know I'm—"

"Yes, they all know you're home, that you're safe. The Webers, the police—"

Her gaze flicked up at him. "You mean Mark."

"Yes, I mean Mark. He's coming to see you today. To apologize."

"He is?"

"Absolutely." He felt his forehead wrinkle. "Rightly so, for terrifying you. He wanted to earn some favour by giving Jessica a dressing down in front of you."

"He—wait, he did?"

"But don't tell him that. He only thought it." Edward grinned a little, watching Bella absorb this information. His hand found hers, and he toyed with her fingers, wondering if she would wear his mother's ring.

"OK," she said. "I need to call Sally, tell her—"

"She knows your safe. Trust me, you don't need to do anything today, unless you absolutely want to."

"Except work."

His flinch was invisible to her. He wasn't sure she had a job to go back to. The Newtons had joined the daytime search party. Edward had heard enough of Mrs. Newton's thoughts to wonder if Bella's employment remained. The rumour wheel had spun viciously, thundering over all the other talk in town. Various versions of what had happened were littered in people's thoughts. Few of them offered kind characterizations of Bella. Jessica Stanley had seen to that. He didn't say anything, not wanting to raise unpleasant, and uncertain possibilities.

"I think the Newton's will understand if you miss work today."

"I already cost them their Sunday looking for me. No, I'll go in."

Edward wished Alice hadn't been so forthcoming about who had helped with the search. Every new name seemed to weigh Bella down with gratitude, and then obligation, at each person's gift of their time."

"You've barely slept, Bella. Or seen Mark, or really been checked by Carlisle."

"I'm fine—"

"Let's recap: You were so terrified that you ran into the woods in the middle of the night, where you were abducted, and held against your will. It was only after the man you love convinced you that he was going to kill you, that you were rescued. When you came home, you called your social worker at Six AM to discuss a new foster home placement."

"I also said I'd marry you. Should I call that into question, too?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"No," he smiled back. "But you might take the day off. Sleep. Talk to Charlotte. Absorb what's happened to you. Be kind to yourself."

She took another bite of toast, smiling coyly. He watched her hand tremble as she chewed. "Maybe."

Edward heard the distant, but distinct sound of a car shuffling off the main road, and to the long gravel driveway.

"I think Mark is on his way here now, actually," he said softly, ear cocked, still listening.

The tremble in her hand grew.

"He just wants to talk to you Bella. To apologize. Trust me. He knows how much he screwed up."

Carlisle and Esme appeared now.

"You're tired," Esme said, putting a gentle hand on Bella's back.

Bella nodded through a yawn, but accepted Esme's hug.

A surge of happiness bubbled up in Edward. He knew that the family had welcomed Bella, but to see it lived in these small gestures was a deep joy.

There was a thunk as the car door was shut, and then the soft gritting of feed over gravel. The sharp rap at the door made Bella jump.

"He's just come to apologize," Edward murmured softly to Bella.

"Yes, just—a little jumpy."

Of course she was. Edward struggled to keep his resentment of Mark, and his poor choices in check. The man was generally competent at his job, but he'd had the worst luck with Bella, and his sense of obligation hadn't helped any.

Esme and Carlisle greeted Mark at the door.

Bella stood beside Edward, her hand pressed into his. He could feel it wobbling there.

"Hi Bella," Mark said.

"Hi," she said in return, voice suddenly rough with nerves.

"I wanted to come and check on you, make sure you're OK."

"I'm fine, thank you."

Mark's thoughts became immediately suspicious, hearing the way she spoke, but he made himself veer away from such speculation. He reminded himself that it had been his suspicions that caused so much trouble already.

Good, Edward thought. At least he was learning.

"I wanted to apologize, for frightening you to the other night."

"OK," Bella said, voice still tremulous.

"I knew Jessica was drunk, and I wanted to scare the crap out of her, for what she'd done. I never meant to frighten you. I'm sorry, I just didn't think—"

"No, you didn't," Edward couldn't help but agree.

Mark flicked his gaze towards Edward, considering saying something sharp in return, but decided against it. "I'm not sure if you know, but your Dad trained me, Bella, and I owe him a lot. When he died—" He glanced at her, assessing the response his words were creating.

Bella only nodded. Edward knew, from the tremor that his own hand stilled in hers, that this affected her far more than she wanted to show.

"I wanted to repay him, by helping you, and I've—well, clearly I haven't done well on that front. I'm sorry."

Bella nodded.

"Please understand, that I only mean well."

"Thank you," Bella said, "but I'd prefer if our paths didn't have reason to cross. No offense."

"None taken. I do, however, need to talk to your foster parents for a bit."

Bella looked up sharply at him. "Why?"

Now Edward interrupted. "A trial date's been set. We just heard yesterday."

"OK, and?"

"You're testifying against a criminal organization. He just needs to talk about the safety precautions that will be put in place."

She nodded. Edward could see the questions brewing in the pinch of her brow. If she wasn't asking them, it was because she didn't want to in front of Mark.

Mark had sense enough to tell her first. "I'll be explaining this to Carlisle and Esme too, but just so you hear it from me, your identity will be concealed, and you'll testify from behind a screen, using a voice modulator."

"I don't want that."

Mark's eyes widened. He spoke slowly. "I'll need to speak with your guardians about that."

Bella's jaw clenched. "Sure."

Mark nodded, and walked towards the kitchen, where Carlisle and Esme had retreated.

"You don't want anonymity?" Edward asked.

"Why will I need it?" she shot back. "With you around? With me . . . different."

Edward's jaw clenched at the thought of this, but said nothing, not wanting to argue when they'd already made so many agreements in such a short period of time.

"Would it hurt to have that anonymity? Because it protects Sally, too."

The transformation in her face told him she hadn't considered this. "Of course. I hadn't—" she sighed. "I didn't think about that."

"Be kind, remember? To yourself?" He said softly. "Maybe head back to bed?"

She chuckled. "So eager to get me back to bed?"

"If salacious innuendo is what it takes to get you there, then yes."

Her laugh was throaty. Her face loosened, smile wide, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sure."

"Good," he said, sweeping her up into his arms, and jogging to the stairs.

He was rewarded with a delightfully high-pitched, "Edward!" as she fought to hold on. In the background of his mind, he could hear Mark's speculative disapproval, as he imagined what they were off to do. Edward's smile stretched wide in response. How little the man knew of love. Edward would count himself happy to watch the woman he adored slide into a state he could only envy, wondering at the secrets her dreams held.

* * *

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight.


	35. Fences worth mending

Posted: January 1, 2019

"Maybe you can go get started sorting some of the new stock in the back, Bella?" Mr. Newton said. He eyed Mrs. Newton meaningfully, and Bella looked at the both of them, and moved quickly to the back.

Their low voices did not obscure the angry tone in which their words were exchanged.

"That girl is trouble!" Mrs. Newton hissed.

Much as she didn't want the woman's opinion to matter, Bella felt the flush of embarrassment, and the horrifying presence of tears brimming.

She'd panicked, yes, when Mark had asked to talk with her, and theoretically gotten lost, but did that really justify this kind of reaction?

"You heard what Jessica told Mike!"

Oh, Bella thought. That explained a lot. She could imagine that Jessica's side of the story didn't paint her well.

She took a deep breath in front of the stock room door, and then stepped inside. It was full, boxes stacked, some precariously. She began shifting them, making sure they didn't fall as she worked to sort items.

After a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Newton's voices grew louder as they approached the room, and then abruptly silent. Then the door was soon yanked open.

"Go home, Bella," Mrs. Newton said without preamble.

"Cheryl!" Mr. Newton reprimanded her.

"Me or her. Your choice," Cheryl hissed at her husband.

Mr. Newton sighed, and rubbed his face with his hands. "Why don't you head home, Bella? I'll pay you for your shift, and call you later."

Her throat felt too tight to allow words out, so Bella nodded, and with as much dignity as she could, pulled off her work vest and name tag, and walked out of the room. Grabbing her bag from behind the counter, she walked quickly out the main entrance, eyes down, trying not to let her emotions loose. She didn't even register the two shapes approaching the store, until one of them called out.

"Bella, wait!"

She looked up, blinking, voice husky with emotion. "Billy?"

"Hey," said another voice—Jacob's, she realized.

"What're you—what're you doing here?" she blurted out.

"Came to see you. Make sure you were OK," Billy said.

She was feeling anything but that at the moment.

"I'm OK."

"And I'm the Queen of Sheba. What's up?" Billy asked.

"Well, I think I just got fired."

"That sucks. Sorry to hear it," Jacob said softly. He still stood squarely behind his father's chair.

Bella gave a weak and flickering smile. "Thank you," she made herself say. Jacob, despite all he'd done, still made her nervous.

Billy, seeming to sense her apprehension, said, "Don't worry, he's on his best behaviour. Right, Jacob?"

"Like a dog on a leash, yep," Jacob said, only a note of bitterness there in his attempted grin. His tone shifted when he asked, much more softly, "You really OK? I wasn't sure what they were doing, after we took out those other two."

The 'other two' pulled her back into the grip of that not so distant, and terrifying night.

"Yeah. I am. Thank you. You saved me." She meant it, but she still looked around nervously, wanting to make sure she wasn't overheard.

"Anytime," Jacob breathed out, clearly aiming for humour, and missing it. "God, that stunt they pulled—we almost attacked. They hadn't warned us." He shook his head angrily.

Bella swallowed, imagining several ugly, alternative outcomes.

"Sam's a good leader," Billy said, turning and eyeing Jacob.

Jacob's face twisted a little, but he nodded. "Sure."

"I was going to ask about rescheduling lunch, but maybe you want to go for coffee now, seeing as you're free?" Billy asked.

Bella wanted nothing more than to go home, and find Edward, but she felt a pang of obligation to Billy. Jacob's form, lurking over his, intimidated her.

There was an awkward pause while she said nothing. Jacob cleared his throat. "I'll drop you off, Dad, then run some errands, OK?"

"Sure," Bella said, feeling a wave of shame that it took this to put her at ease. He'd risked his life for her.

So it was that Bella found herself across from Billy at the local diner, he nursing a cup of coffee, and she a weak cup of tea, largely untouched.

"Things going OK with the Cullens?"

"They are, yes." She smiled a little.

"Huh," Billy said. "Thought it would be more weird, living with people who don't use toilets and stuff."

Bella snorted out her tea.

"No waiting for the bathroom, at least," she finally managed, wiping her face.

"True," Billy said, smiling. "Hadn't thought of that."

There'd been one bathroom between the three of them at Billy's house. It hadn't been so bad most of the time, but Bella discovered that Jacob could take a long time using it. A long time.

"And you?" She asked. "How're things? With Jacob home again? You know, waiting for the bathroom?"

"Good," he said, still smiling. Then his expression became more serious. "Being away gave him some . . . perspective on life."

"Is that code for accepting I'm with Edward? Without making his face twitch?"

Bella decided she liked the sound of Billy's chuckle.

"Yeah, something like that." He took a sip of coffee. "And how is living with your boyfriend?"

There was something in the way he said it that Bella couldn't put her finger on right away. Instead of answering, she looked up at him through her eyelashes for a bit. Then it struck her. It was exactly the way Charlie would've asked such a question. "It's good. Really good."

"Mmm," Billy said, studying the contents of his cup, like they might say something to him. He added more sugar, and stirred it in a lazy clockwise motion. "Sorry about your job."

"Me too," Bella sighed. She was holding onto a the faintest glimmer of hope, that Mr. Newton might intervene on her behalf, but it was the slimmest of things.

"Any idea what happened?"

Nodding, she sighed. "Fall-out from the other night. I'm sure you heard what happened."

"Not really," Billy said, shaking his head.

She explained, with as little detail possible, what had happened at Sally's party. She also told him about Mark's apology.

"There's a line about good intentions, that your Dad liked to use," Billy said.

Bella waited, eager for this small gift of her father, wrapped in Billy's words.

"The road to hell is paved with them."

She chuckled. She could imagine Charlie using it a lot.

More slowly, and much more softly, Billy asked, "What happened, in the woods?"

She understood he wasn't asking about Mark.

"He took me," she said simply.

"I know that part," Billy replied patiently. "I don't know why. It sounded like he . . . protected you? From what Jacob said?"

Bella's eyebrows nudged together. "Um, sort of. He wanted me so he could . . . offer me to someone."

"Offer you?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a sip of her tea.

Billy frowned into his coffee, then shook his head.

"He was a Dacian," Bella started. Edward had explained what they were after Mark had left.

ooOOoo

"When the Volturi destroyed the old Thracians—" Edward started.

"The who?" Bella asked.

"Before the Volturi, there were the Thracians. They were a very different sort of ruler to our world."

"Oh?"

"Carlisle hasn't told me much about them, but the Volturi adopted part of their . . . feeding model."

Bella waited, not quite sure she wanted an explanation of what that meant.

"Their food was prepared for them, by a special order of vampires called Dacians." Edward looked up at her, fiddling with one of the candles on the table.

Bella felt brave, nodding for him to continue.

"The Volturi destroyed all but a few of the ruling, and servant order. As Carlisle understood, they left those few battered remnants to wander as warnings of what the Volturi were, and are willing to do for power." Now as he looked at her, he'd asked, "Are you OK with me telling you this?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Bella had husked out. She was safe now. She wasn't walking into her new life with blinders on.

"The Dacian was very singular in purpose—and his mind was very . . . fractured. He was very old."

"He was a freaking psycho, Edward." A flare of rage ruffled the silence of her mind, remembering how Carlisle had let him go.

"He won't trouble us," Edward assured her. "And Carlisle gave his word. It means something to us—and particularly to Carlisle, that our promises hold their weight."

"Does it mean less to you?"

His face transformed, only briefly, the expression flickering over it. "When someone is holding the woman you love hostage, nothing means anything. I would have promised him every soul in Forks to get you safely away."

Bella swallowed, and nodded slowly, not sure what to do with her own fingers, before asking Edward her next question. "What was he planning on doing with me?"

Edward's eyebrows lifted for a moment, and then dropped. He abandoned the candle, and took her hands into his before he spoke again. "He was going to take you, and find one of his former masters."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what else to say. Her hands felt more cold than they should be, even in his grip.

"The chances of him being successful would've been very slight."

"OK."

"But you were in danger, because we left you unprotected. That won't happen again."

Bella considered all this for a while. "How would they prepare people? The Dacians?"

Edward only shook his head.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because I don't think you want to know."

"Tell me."

"Bella—"

"Please. It isn't idle curiosity, Edward. I'll be like you. I should know."

"You won't—"

"My world has already seen many ugly things, including the Dacian. Pretending it's not real won't make it better."

Edward squeezed her fingers gently before answering, his features pained. "They were very different times, Bella. The Thracians kept dominion in small enclaves. Each one had its own castle, and stable of Dacians. The local populace would bring them offerings."

"They would _give_ people to them?"

Edward had nodded. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"The Dacians' job was to keep them calm. Clean them. Feed them. Make sure they were well cared for, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks, before they were given to their betters."

Like a fattening house for cattle.

Bella struggled with the notion of humans knowingly offering their own to Vampires. "People would give people to them?"

"It was almost a thousand years ago, Bella. The Thracians were Gods to the people. They kept their populations . . . I won't say safe, but stable, certainly. It suited their purposes. And there are always unwanted people."

She cringed, imagining who fell into that category.

"When their charges were ready, the Dacians would take them to small antechambers, where they'd be left for the ruling parties. They liked to . . . enjoy their food before tasting it."

Suddenly Edward's reluctance for explanation became clear.

"The Dacians were much like us in diet, but they weren't allowed mates. They were almost a religious order in that regard. Very strictly controlled."

"Yes," Bella had whispered, grasping more of what her captor had said.

Edward's squeeze became tighter. "One of us will be with you at all times, Bella. Nothing will happen to you. Nothing."

ooOOoo

She mulled over this as she looked at Billy. She gave him the outlines of what had happened, avoiding the creature's motivations.

"Sounds frickin' nuts. And they let him walk away?"

"Carlisle did, yes," Bella said. She wondered if Billy grasped the distinction.

He simply shook his head in a vociferous movement.

While she hadn't objected to having one of the Cullens nearby, she had asked for space, and intervention only when necessary. She wondered who was watching now. Edward had told he'd be in Port Angeles for part of the time she was at work.

The desire to see him, now, was strong.

"I should let you go, I expect Jacob's waiting," Bella said.

"He can wait a bit," Billy replied, voice level. "And you don't need to worry about him, in any sense."

"If you say so BIlly." Her tone was less than convinced.

Billy's voice lowered. "He's young, Bella. And he's had to deal with more than most adults ever have to. Please don't write him off for his mistakes."

She shook her head. "Our choices do a good job defining us."

"Yes, I'm sure the Newtons feel that way too." He lifted his eyebrows.

"That's so not a fair comparison, Billy." She looked at him sharply.

"No, it isn't. I figured, for someone who's had a lot of experience in being misjudged, that you'd have some empathy for what Jacob's been through. He knows what it means to lose a parent. To be thrown into a world he had no choice about. Sound familiar?"

It did, but not enough to excuse the lines Jacob had crossed.

"I didn't hurt anyone with the truth, Billy. Keep things from people. Ignore them when they said no."

"I am the last person to say that Jacob hasn't made mistakes. We all have. I just . . . he's young, Bella. I'd hope you'd see that he can grow, and change. Remember that he did many things right before he did things wrong."

Remembered flickers of kindnesses Jacob had done in those early days in their house flitted through her mind. He had been kind.

And then he'd wanted more. Just like other people had wanted more.

 _You thought Edward wanted more_ , she reminded herself.

No, Jacob had been kind. Had protected her in more than one way.

"I'm not asking for you to forgive him, Bella. Just maybe, be open to it . . . someday."

Someday seemed reasonable, but her face remained fixed as she thought.

"You're family to us Bella. I'll—we'll always be there for you. I want you to know that. It's important."

Family.

He reached over and squeezed her hand lightly before pushing him back from the table.

"Come on," he said, "help this poor old disabled man to the door, so he can stop hassling you."

The small chuckle was automatic. "Poor old disabled man my butt," she muttered, but got up to push him to the door.

"Someone's gotta be your parental imposition. You'll grow up all wrong without it you know," he said, winking.

"Thanks Billy," she said drily, but there was real affection beneath it.

But in the parking lot, by Billy's truck, she leaned over and gave him a hug. "Thank you for the tea," she said. "And the parental imposition."

"No problem. Anytime."

Jacob waited a circumspect distance away, hand raised in farewell. Before she could turn and walk towards her own—her borrowed car, she reminded herself—he called out. "We're having a bonfire, Saturday night, if you and your friends want to come. Paul always does well, having an audience, for when he puts his foot in his mouth." He smiled tentatively, watching her face, like he wasn't sure if the expression was welcome.

Billy studied the ground in front of the truck, his jaw tight, turning his head towards Jacob. Clearly, he hadn't expected this invitation.

They'd had several good bonfires on the beach in the short time she'd had with the Blacks. Maybe they could have more of them.

"Maybe," she said. "Let me ask Sally and Angela."

"Awesome," Jacob said, and turned to go.

The signs were subtle, but Bella knew Edward was jittery when she returned home. He greeted her silently, and abruptly in the garage, making her start with his sudden presence.

"Sorry," he said. "You're home early."

"Yes."

"And you're not at work."

"No," she sighed. "Think I got fired."

"I'm sorry."

She pulled back and looked at him. "You're not surprised. You knew."

He grimaced a little. "I heard Mrs. Newton's thoughts," he said. "I didn't know, but I suspected. Should I have told you?"

She thought about it for a moment. "No, but thank you for asking."

This seemed to relieve him.

"You had visitors," he said next.

She wondered how much he would pretend not to know. Surely he would have heard from whoever was with her, what had happened.

"Billy came to see me. Jacob too."

Edward seemed bristly to her, but she ignored it and went on.

"Nothing bad. We went for coffee. It was good. I was glad to see them." God help her if her voice didn't vibrate with emotion.

"They upset you."

"No, Billy reminded me . . . of some things I needed reminding of."

Edward's frown persevered.

Bella moved towards the house, tugging his hand, and he moved with her. It was devoid of other occupants, as far as she could tell, though her senses were hardly reliable. She sat down on the couch, pulling around her one of the many blankets that were now scattered around the house. Then she welcomed Edward's arms as a second layer.

"Jacob invited Sally, and Angela and I for bonfire on Saturday."

Edward looked at her, nodding.

"Think I'll go, see if they'll go with me. Make up for ruining Sally's birthday."

The nodding stopped, and Edward stared, his eyebrows and mouth two perfectly inverted triangles. "No," he said simply.

"No what?"

"You can't go."

"What do you mean, I can't go?" She was imagining some other commitment. "The trial isn't until next week—"

"After what happened the other day, you really have to ask?"

"Why, did Alice see something?"

He turned her arm over, looking pointedly at the thin red line that still stood out against her pale flesh. "Alice didn't see anything. She wouldn't, not with the wolves. But, I've had enough of having your life toyed with by supernatural creatures I don't trust."

"You don't want me to see any of the wolves?"

"Absolutely not."

"They're my friends, Edward. If they hadn't helped, you wouldn't have found me-"

"I can't get to you on the reserve, Bella"

"No, and you couldn't before, and I was fine."

He looked at her arm again.

"That was an exceptional case, and you know it—"

"No, I don't. They're werewolves"

"And you're not my jailor."

It sounded like a snap, the air moved so quickly into his nose.

She regretted her choice of words immediately.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she mumbled.

Edward shook his head, and brought his hand to her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "You are . . . so important to me. The thought of anything bad happening to you." Now his position shifted, so that he held her in his lap. "I felt like I had a knife in my gut, when you were taken."

Her own innards spasmed, knowing his distress.

"I will soon be like you, Edward. And then I won't be able to see them. You won't have to worry about me then. And I think, if you consider it, really consider it—that you'll see I'm safe with them. They came when you asked. You have a treaty with them. They've given you no reason not to trust them."

His breath ruffled her hair.

"Is it so important to you, that you go?" he asked.

"They took me in when I could barely stand to be in my own skin, Edward. They gave me a home. Billy was my dad's best friend. I'd like to leave that part of my life in as positive a way as possible."

She felt Edward's face tighten, as it rested in her hair.

"They're dangerous, Bella."

"You're dangerous."

He groaned, shifting her slightly in his arms. "Yes. I am. But I'd never hurt you."

"And I don't think they will, either. I don't think they'd risk asking me there, if they thought that would happen."

Edward's "OK," was almost inaudible.

"Pardon?" she asked, not sure she'd heard right.

"OK, but I have some requests."

"I'm listening," she whispered back in disbelief.

He paused, clearly considering his requests, or perhaps his wording. "Would you allow me to accompany you to the boundary? And have one of the wolves meet you there?"

She'd expected something ridiculous. Or more of a fight. Not this. Blinking, she said, "OK. Those seem very reasonable." She squiggled in his arms, making sure she could see him.

Watching his face shift from one emotion to the next, she understood what his reasonableness cost him.

"Thank you," she added more softly.

He pulled her to him again. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He didn't speak anymore, not with words at least, but let his lips articulate, over hers, the powerful feelings that she felt blossoming in her body. There was a much more rudimentary communication with their hands, and then a descent into sweet togetherness that required no words at all.


	36. A Bonfire of the Vanities

_Posted January 3, 2019_

Bella was still waiting for Paul to shove his proverbial foot into his mouth.

So far, she'd been happily disappointed on that front.

She tossed another chunk of the large crumbling log she was perched on into the fire, watching the brief flare of it joining the larger conflagration. Around her, soft conversation bubbled. Angela and Sally were still involved in a complex game that used pebbles and sticks as place holders. There was a narrative element to it as well, which Seth was eagerly leading.

She smiled, cocooned in the night's sounds. It felt like a small symphony, the rhythm set by the lap of waves on the pebbled beach, layered with an irregular percussion of laughter, and the low hum of various, and unknown insects in the trees behind them.

A set of solid fingers held a small, copper coin in front of her.

"For your thoughts?" Jacob asked.

"How literally figurative," she said, smiling a little.

"Well," Jacob said, palming the penny when she didn't take it, "I'd offer you something to eat, but I don't think Paul's left anything." He looked over the fire, to where Paul had joined the game with Sally and Angela.

"Just enjoying here, right now. It's beautiful. Peaceful." She looked over at where he'd sat on the log beside her, adding pointedly but gently, "Not awkward and weird."

"Yeah, gotcha," Jake said.

Bella's face must have held its warning shape, because he kept talking, and he sounded nervous. "I really do understand, and I'm sorry about before."

"I know, Jake. You've said that a lot. A _lot_."

"It's warranted repeating."

Her eyebrows did a pushup in acknowledgement.

Jacob grabbed a stick and poked at the fire.

Bella's fingers itched to do likewise.

Jake held out the long stick, clean end towards her.

She hesitated before taking it.

"Not some sort of weird metaphor for stoking my fire. Trust me."

She snorted out a laugh.

"Come on," he cajoled, "everyone likes poking at a bonfire."

She took it, and nudged a few pieces of wood, watching part of the structure shift, and the flame shoot briefly higher.

Jacob watched the fire, his fingers loosely knitted together, dangling off his knees. He really was huge.

Everyone else was lost in their own conversations, and Bella relaxed, realizing Jacob wasn't going to impose on her quiet space.

"Did my dad say where I went?" he finally asked.

"No."

"Is it OK, if I talk a bit?" he asked. He sounded worried.

She glanced over at him. His face was pinched with concern.

Concern for her? Or for not being heard?

"Sure," she mumbled, flicking her eyes over to where Sam and Emily sat. She knew she had recourse there if Jake pushed beyond her good will.

"I went north. Really far north. Went far enough that it was hard to hear . . . everyone." He looked around the wide circle of light. "The quiet was really nice."

Bella nodded, not sure if he expected more.

"Do you know much about how we become what we are?"

"Um, no."

Jacob looked towards Angela and Sally. They were the only ones there who didn't know what the assembled people were. They were wholly engrossed in Seth's game. There was a look that Bella caught between Seth and Sally, and it made her stomach flutter uncertainly. Was that wise?

"Seth's a good guy," Jacob murmured softly.

"What?" Looking over, she saw him watching too.

"Seth won't screw around."

Bella nodded, but frowned, seeing Seth and Sally's hands brushing by each other. A protective surge of feeling washed through her.

"His sister'd rip him a new one if he did. Anyway, what do you know about how we . . . change?"

"Nothing, really." She turned her attention back to Jacob. His gaze was focused, but no more so than she would expect from a friend.

"Some of us carry the gene in our tribe, but it doesn't manifest, not unless we're exposed to—" he paused, his lips and tongue seeming to twist a bit. "Creatures like the Cullens."

Bella poked at the fire again, biting her lip when two large logs fell sideways, dismantling the larger structure.

Jacob picked up another stick and neatly flipped them back into place. Then he stirred circles in the sand with the burnt edge of it. "My change happened about a month before you came to live in Forks. It was . . . difficult. Getting used to having two forms was even harder. Any kind of emotional upset set me off at first. I'd managed to get a handle on most of it, but when you came back to live with us—" he blew out a breath. "I'd had a bit of . . . crush on you before, when we were younger."

"I know."

He grinned. "That obvious?"

"Hard to miss, Jake." Despite all that had happened, she smiled. "You were sweet. What eleven year old doesn't want a really cool collection of snail shells?"

"That was a sweet collection."

They both chuckled.

"And I learned that maybe giving them a girl without warning might not be the best idea."

"Valuable life lesson," Bella agreed, remembering the startling experience. She'd dropped the small cardboard box, thinking the things were live. Their delicate forms had shattered.

"Sorry about dropping them."

"It's OK, Bella. Anyway, when I changed, everything became so much more intense, so much harder to grasp. And after we found you—with—"

"Edward."

"Yeah, sure—I meant more where we first found you. It was a shock. I mean, you were like family, and we'd let you go. I know my dad felt so responsible. I did too."

"You weren't responsible for me. For my choices."

"I know, I know. I mean, I know that now. But then, I didn't. And with the change, and all those feelings, everything became muddled. And when you told us you and . . . when you said who you were seeing. I lost it. Not that you need me telling you that," he said, glancing at her arm, now covered by a long shirt, "but I lost control, and I didn't get it back. Not until I left."

Bella kept making circles in the sand with her stick, listening intently. Uneasily.

"You ever seen a pair of beavers?"

"What?" She was beginning to feel like she had whiplash, listening to Jacob talk.

"Beavers? You know, big flappy tails, build dams?"

"Uh," Bella started, not sure where he was going. "In books, on TV, yeah?"

"Sorry, you must think I'm nuts."

Yes.

She cleared her throat in what she hoped was a tactful way.

He kept going voice just loud enough for her to hear. "I spent most of my time away wolf-shaped. Saw a lot of things people don't get to see. And," he smiled, recalling this, "I saw beavers where I was. And a really amazing beaver dam. It was an old pair there. They mate for life, hey?"

"Oh?" Bella said nervously.

"They do. I watched them for days. I'm sure you think that sounds spectacularly interesting."

Bella didn't think it was so strange at all. She'd watched people her entire life. She imagined being an animal would give Jacob an interesting perspective on other animals' lives. Lately, she'd watched Carlisle and Esme. Their relationship was a study in the small signs of tender adoration. The tiniest gestures gave voice to feelings as powerful as tides. Watching them gave her hope.

"I get it," she said huskily.

Jacob nodded. "There's a lot of love in the small, and patient things that beavers do. They groom each other, almost constantly. They feed each other, and they work together. Nothing spectacular. No drama." He chuckled at this last remark. "And they rarely fight, except in defense. Not with each other."

Bella nodded.

"It made me realize that what I'd been holding onto wasn't . . . real. Some crushes are just meant to be crushes." He said this last bit with a cheeky grin. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Bella let out the breath she was holding, hand still clenched tightly around the stick. She couldn't quite make herself smile.

"Sorry," he said. "I try to make everything a joke. I know that it isn't—I'm just," he sighed. "I'd like to be your friend. I don't want to screw that up."

Jacob went back to prodding the pool of ash around the fire.

"But I get if I've ruined that possibility, Bella."

"You haven't ruined it, Jacob. I'm just—I need time. I need time for a lot of things."

"OK," he said softly.

They both turned their attention back to the fire's remnants, and the pool of light that spilled outward from it.

"I was really surprised that you came at all tonight." He looked over at her. "I didn't think he'd let you."

"He didn't want to."

"But you came anyway?" he asked, voice rising.

"It took some time to arrive at an arrangement." She looked over at him. "He isn't controlling, if that's what you're wondering about."

"No, I've given him reason enough, Bella." He frowned. "Are you sure he's OK with this?"

She'd thought things were good when they'd parted at the boundary line, but now worry wormed into her thoughts. Then her feelings turned to suspicion. "Why are you asking?"

"I don't have any ulterior motives. I'm just . . . surprised, that's all. We are mortal enemies."

"He all but sent me to live with you, not so long ago."

"That was different."

Now she laughed. "That's what he said."

Jacob scowled briefly, but then his face relaxed into one of his easy going grins. "Great minds, I guess." He shrugged.

With a stick, Bella made two lines down, and two lines across in the rough sand, and then drew an X in the middle. Jacob smiled and added his O to the side.

She was pretty sure he let her win.

As Sam moved towards the dying bonfire with fresh wood, Bella considered his careful movements. The precise application of each piece.

She thought of the love—of the fire, that had flared between her and Edward, and how it'd felt like they'd struggled to build a solid base after its initial sparks. Were still struggling, in some ways. She didn't doubt Edward, but she did doubt herself. She needed to be her best for him. She needed to be better for him.

\- 0 -

"How was it?" Edward asked, his cool fingers interlaced with her warm ones.

She'd been grateful for his earlier, and quiet greeting in the car on the way home. Their mutual silence during the drive had been a peaceful one.

"It was good. Really good."

"What made it so good?"

She leaned into him. "Being with friends. Poking sticks at the fire. Watching Seth make Sally smile."

Edward cocked a speculative eyebrow.

She shook her head. "No, it was sweet, really."

"I agree. Sweet is the appropriate word."

"Really? You think—?"

"I think Sally likes Seth."

"You heard—?"

"No, no. I just have eyes. I saw how she looked when you mentioned he'd be there."

She nodded, and then turned her head into his chest. "Thank you, for saying yes. And I'm sorry for pushing you on this. I don't think you were as OK as I let myself think."

His arm slipped around her. "No, I wasn't. And I'm sorry, that I wasn't. I don't want to hold you back from friends, but I'm still . . . struggling to trust the wolves."

Her stomach twisted guiltily. "You're more important to me than friends, Edward—"

"No—please don't ever think it's a competition between me and your friendships, Bella. I don't want to control you. I'm not that kind of monster."

He said this last part with a smile, and her lips curled up to match his in shape.

"I know. I'm just seeing things in different ways. Jacob actually helped with that."

She waited for his body to tense at the name, but there was nothing, just his arms, wrapped around her.

They stayed like this for a while, her warm breath mixing with the cold current of his.

"I love you Edward. I know you know that. It's like—my heart isn't my own anymore. It beats here." she brushed her fingers just under his collar bone.

His throat seemed to tighten. "You took the words right out of my mouth." His hand mirrored hers in place, and their lips touched in that sweet contact, that made her forget every failing, worry, and fear.


	37. Trials & Tribulations

_Posted 2019-01-06_

* * *

Bella's face was a solid flush, her jaw working, as she struggled to put words to her uncomfortable thoughts.

Charlotte sat waiting patiently. She'd already murmured a quiet, "It's OK, some things are harder to talk about than others."

No shit.

"I don't want to think about _him_ , when I'm with Edward."

The 'him' required no explanation.

"It's a perfectly normal, human reaction to compare experiences—"

"I don't want to compare those experiences. I don't want them to be comparable in anyway."

"I'm not suggesting they will be, Bella, but some of the elements will surely draw comparisons. Better to be prepared for that, ready for that, than to try to deny them."

Her stomach contracted, just thinking about this.

Charlotte shifted the topic slightly. "How is the 'small steps' program going?"

Another blush, hidden by the first one, made her cheeks warm again.

"OK."

"OK as in I don't want to talk about it, or you feel like you're making progress?"

Bella glanced up at Charlotte's soft form. For all her matronly appearance, the woman had sharp edges—no, that was unkind, she told herself. Sharp senses. A a pointed mind.

"We are—making progress."

"How are you feeling about that?"

Amazing.

"Uh, good."

She was trying hard not to remember the progress they'd made the night of the bonfire. They'd spoken earlier in the week about letting nature take more of its course . . . with limits.

"Clothing needs to stay on, and hands need to stay on top of it," Edward had said.

Bella had looked at him incredulously. "Er . . . exactly what do you see being different about what we're doing now, then? If clothes stay on? And hands over them?"

Edward hadn't answered with words, but instead, had slowly trailed his index finger from her cheek to her neck, between the two nubs of her clavicle, then down between her breasts. His cold touch left a line of fire in its place, and by the time he kissed her, her breathing was a series of irregular pants, her mind trying to keep up with the sensations his fingers were pulling from her hips.

"Good!" Charlotte said, startling Bella's reverie. "I try to avoid giving so much advice, but I will give you some now, because I feel it's important. When you do find yourself making comparisons—and I don't doubt that you will, I recommend you don't fight it. Let the thoughts happen. Affirm where you are in the present, and most importantly, don't hide what you're experiencing from Edward."

This last piece of advice made her head whip up. She felt like she'd swallowed her tongue. "That seems . . . cruel." She imagined what he'd seen in her memory, and what such words would draw in his mind.

"Being honest about what you're feeling is never cruel, Bella, though it can be hard to do."

Yes, it could.

She wanted to spare Edward reminders of the ugly things she'd experienced, but knew the way past what haunted her was through it, one way or another.

Charlotte's gaze found the clock on the wall behind Bella. "I'm mindful of the time. Before we close, I wanted to touch on the trial that's coming up this week. How're you feeling about that?"

"Fine. A little nervous."

"Nervous about what?"

"Forgetting something. Screwing up. Looking stupid. Having people think I'm not credible."

Charlotte scribbled something on her notepad. "Anything else?"

"Not really, no."

Charlotte's pencil paused in its noisy progress across the page. She folded her hands over each other. "So, would it be fair to say you're feeling some performance anxiety?"

Bella considered her many failed performances in multiple venues. "Yes."

Charlotte nodded, but her eyebrows were too tight together. "No other concerns?"

"No, but clearly you have some."

Her counsellor lifted her eyebrows in acknowledgement. "The gang you're testifying against is notorious. Surely you've seen some of the press coverage?"

"Yes."

Bella noticed that Charlotte didn't mention the threats some witnesses had received.

"I'm not worried about my safety, if that's what you're wondering about." Bella hoped Charlotte wouldn't want to press to hard on this point. With one of the Cullens nearby at all times, and Edward with her near constantly, she had no worries on that front at all.

Charlotte nodded slowly.

"The police have arranged protection," Bella mumbled weakly. It was true. Perhaps Charlotte would think her naive enough to believe in this protection.

"Of course," Charlotte said, smiling a little.

Bella let her insides relax a little.

This lien of dispensed with, Bella listened as Charlotte began talking about some of the other things the trial might entail. She paid attention, as best she could, but underneath it, was the very distracting feeling of hope that was building, as the trial date neared. It would bring this part of her life to close, and she wanted nothing more than to do just that.

\- 0 -

"We'll meet back here for one, then, and go in together, alright?" Jason said, shifting his legal briefs to his other hand. He glanced at his watch again.

Edward and Bella nodded, hands linked, as Jason walked away.

"Let's go get you some lunch," Edward said, squeezing her fingers.

Bella, whose stomach was twisting with nerves, said, "Maybe later."

Edward brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Nothing bad is going to happen. And you still need to eat."

"I'd rather not risk losing my lunch on the stand, thanks." The anxiety she'd mentioned to Charlotte was in full force.

Edward sighed a little. "Fair enough, but let's get something in case you change your mind."

"Sure," she said absentmindedly. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom."

"OK. I'll wait for you in the lobby." He lifted his chin towards the area down the hall from the courtroom. There were a small stand that sold sandwiches and coffee.

She mentally wandered through the testimony they'd rehearsed with her lawyer, Jason, and then with the prosecutor. There had been some maneuvering from Jason that had made the charges against her be dropped. When she asked how, Jason had smiled and said, "legal stuff." Edward had quietly explained later, in tones that were anything but condescending, the finer legal machinations.

"Their case was very weak, Bella," he'd finally said. "They had a poor chance of prosecuting successfully, and your testimony against this gang is much more valuable. They see it has high risk to you, as well." Then he'd leaned closer. "Not that anyone would have a chance."

They'd spent the night in Edward's apartment, and would again tonight, driving home in the morning. She'd been anxious about being there again, and before they even got into the elevator, Edward had offered to take her somewhere else.

"No," she'd said, "it would be a waste of money."

He'd stopped the shaking of her head by lifting her chin with his finger. "Your comfort, or peace of mind, is something I long for. It is never a waste."

She'd made a flippant comment to hide her discomfort. "Just put a tiara on me and call me princess."

"I just might," he'd said, "if you'd let me."

Then he'd kissed her as they stepped into the elevator, and she hadn't really cared about where they were, or when they'd last been there.

With all these thoughts swirling in her mind, Bella was a bit distracted when she left the bathroom, stopping to use the water fountain. As she bent over to get a drink, she smoothed down the tailored knee-length skirt, part of the ensemble Alice had assured her would look appropriately professional for a court appearance. The water pressure at the fountain was low, and it took awhile to get enough to adequately wet her throat.

"Nice view," a voice drawled from behind her.

A voice she recognized.

She stood slowly, giving herself a moment to try to slow her breathing. There was nothing she could do about her frantically beating heart.

Then she turned.

David stood there, the same grey suit she remembered adorned by a prominent police badge clipped to his breast pocket. "You in trouble sweetheart?" he asked. "Or trying to pick up customers in more interesting locales?" His grin was a leer that dredged up the memory of their last meeting.

She shivered.

He was leaning against one of the building columns, and now stood, flicking something off his jacket. He didn't even make eye contact when he said, "I'm free for a good time if you are."

Her instant rage was so strong that it felt like it held a shape. Mentally, she flung it outwards, hoping that Edward heard her thoughts clearly.

"I'm not in trouble, no," she said, feeling her face pale with rage.

"You sure? You look scared."

"No," she said, holding her ground, hands stiff and flat at her sides.

"Well good," he said, coming closer. She felt his fingers flick her hair off her shoulder. "I like the good girl look on you."

Behind him, Edward appeared, his face sharp with determination. To her great surprise, he didn't rip David to pieces, but instead, looked around the empty hall, and nodded grimly at her.

He'd heard her thoughts.

"Good," she whispered to David, stepping closer. "Because there was something I wanted to do last time, that I didn't get to."

"Really?" he asked eagerly.

"Yeah," she whispered, as he moved in closer to her, body at ease.

She slid her hands up his forearms, like she meant to caress them, but gripping tightly at the elbows, and as hard as she could, brought her knee hard into his groin.

Edward was there almost instantly, Bella pulled behind him.. She wondered if she was deluding herself, in thinking that was a flicker of pride she'd seen on his face

David was bent over, groaning into the floor. She could have stood there watching it forever, but he began to stand up far too soon for her liking. His face was dusky with rage. "You bitch! You are so going to regret that!"

"I don't think so," Edward growled.

"She just assaulted a police officer idiot. She's up to her eyeballs in trouble!" He wasn't looking at Edward yet.

"Is this the man that raped you, Bella?" Edward asked her calmly.

Of course it was. Why was he asking?

Then she understood. "Yes."

"Rape?" David laughed. It gratified her to see him holding himself as he did, like the sound hurt him. Like she had hurt him.

Good.

"She's seventeen," Edward said. "And was coerced. That makes you a rapist. So go ahead, call it in. I can't wait."

Now David looked at them both, and his face paled.

"Of course, I'd be delighted to call in this 'assault' for you," Edward said. Then he leaned in, and in a voice that made Bella shiver, hissed through what she knew were bared teeth, "Or you can run. And I'll find you later." Then he grinned with such menace, Bella actually gasped.

David ran. It was the most gratifying, near drunken stumble down the courthouse hallway Bella had ever hoped to see.

When she put her hand on Edward's shoulder, he spun around to face her. His visage transformed immediately, and his hand was at her cheek, "Are you alright?"

"Me? I'm fine. I'm . . . " She felt exultant. "Amazing."

His eyebrows pinched together, gaze sweeping up and down her body.

"Don't. Really, I'm so happy right now. He ran away, scared. And I finally got to knee him."

"I meant what I said to him, Bella."

Her stomach fell. She trapped his face with her hands. "No. He's not worth you doing something you'll regret."

The expression on Edward's face told her he disagreed.

"Promise me you won't do anything, unless you talk to me," she said.

He almost groaned, hand running through his hair.

"Promise," she said again. "I can file a complaint now. I have his name and badge number."

"The chances are so slim that way Bella—"

"I know, but this is my choice, and I choose for you not to do something you'll regret." She placed her hand, still chilled from the shock of what had happened, to his cheek.

"I wouldn't regret it for a very long time," he mumbled, but she could feel his anger waning.

"Together. We'll find a way together."

Their foreheads came together, and she breathed out her next words, "Promise me, please."

He sighed. "I promise."

\- 0 -

As far she could tell, she didn't screw up on the stand. Both Edward and Jason assured her that her testimony was as they'd rehearsed.

"You actually looked more collected—calmer than I expected," Jason said. "You do some deep breathing or something before hand?"

"Something like that," she mumbled.

Edward's face held its impassive mask, but there was a twitch when Jason turned his back briefly.

After making their farewells to the lawyer for the day, Edward turned to Bella. "I'm proud of you. I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier."

She blinked. "You are?"

"Of course. On both counts."

"I've been waiting for your lecture on staying safe . . . er, before I testified, I mean."

"Do you really think I would have stood by and let that happen, if I didn't think it was safe?"

"I knew it was well out of your comfort zone."

"How?"

"You get that look on your face. You get a wrinkle, right here." Her finger brushed between his eyebrows.

Capturing her finger, he pressed it to his lips. "Here's to having fewer wrinkles, then."

"Fewer wrinkles," she agreed.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	38. Juvenile Pursuits

A/N for 2019-01-10: It was lovely to hear your reactions to the last chapter. Clearly, you like seeing bad people get their comeuppance. More on that later in the story.

Many thanks to Eeyorefan12 for their stellar, and speedy pre-reading, and Beta services for this chapter. I tinkered with the text a little afterwards, so all errors are my own.

~ Erin

Page: AT FlamingMapleWrites on FB

FB name: Erin Affleck

* * *

"So, um, Seth seems nice." Bella offered.

"Yeah," Sally said, blushing and smiling over her letter tiles. "He is." Her pieces clicked together as she shuffled them.

Downstairs, Emmett's voice boomed out, "I own you, man!"

He and Edward were playing a game together on the TV. Its purpose and means were a happy mystery to Bella. She doubted that Edward wanted to play it either, but she appreciated him giving her and Sally some space and time to be together.

Besides, after several depressing prior attempts to play Scrabble with Edward, Bella had given up.

When he'd last suggested a game, she'd sort of sighed. "Er . . . maybe when I've had a few more years, and I have a vampire brain to work with, we can try again," she had told him.

"You're pretty good. Don't be so down on yourself," he'd encouraged her.

"You've beaten me by almost a hundred points every time," Bella had reminded him.

Sally's voice brought Bella back to the present.

"He asked me if I'd like to see a movie with him in Port Angeles."

"Really?" Bella could barely contain her grin.

"Yup."

They stared at their letter racks for several moments, the clack of wood on wood a comfortable background to their silence.

"How old is Seth?" Bella asked. It was hard to tell with the werewolves. They all looked so much older than they were.

"Fifteen." More blushing.

Shoot. She'd embarrassed her. "Oh. He seems much older. . . an old soul, you know?"

Sally's sweet smile graced her face once more. "Very." Then she chuckled. "His sister's driving us. He's not old enough to drive yet."

Bella tried to simultaneously smile, and not cringe too visibly. Leah could be . . . not so bitter at times. At others . . .

"Think she's worried I might make moves on her little brother," Sally said conspiratorially.

Bella snorted out a laugh. "You cougar, you."

"Gotta watch out for those fallen women and all that."

The smile slid off of Bella's face. "No."

Sally looked up, eyebrows nudged together in question.

"Sorry." Bella said. "I know we used to joke about it and stuff. It helped but—it was never like that, Sally. You know that, right?"

"I know." Her voice was quiet, face solemn.

More silence. This time, it had an uncomfortable edge.

"You, um, still talking to someone?" Sally asked.

"Yeah. You?"

More nodding.

"Does it help . . . so, I mean—" Sally's blush met her eyebrows. "Can you and Edward—?" Her hand waved around as if searching for words.

Bella wasn't exactly sure what Sally was asking, but had an idea where she might be heading. "We haven't, not yet. We want to wait. Until we're married."

"Oh," Sally said, clearly surprised. "I'm, um—wow. You don't want—?"

Bella cleared her throat. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with friends, even one like Sally, and definitely not in range of the several sets of vampiric ears located in the house.

"Sorry." Sally mumbled. "I didn't mean to pry. I'm glad things are better."

"Me too."

Picking up a few tiles from her rack, Sally set them down on the board. "Pixie. For twenty points."

"Nice." Bella said, drumming her fingers on the game box, trying to settle her feelings. She distracted herself with searching for her own move. When she found it, she smiled. "Aerie." She nudged the tiles into place.

"Really?" Sally asked, frowning. "You sure that's a real word?"

"Yup."

"OK, I'm challenging."

It was nice to see her standing up for herself, even in this small way.

"You know you lose your turn when you're wrong, right?" Bella's tone was playful.

Sally didn't miss a beat. "And you lose yours _when_ I'm right."

Bella's grin was wide as she hopped up to get the dictionary. As she moved towards the shelf, her sleeve caught the corner of a file on her desk, knocking it onto the floor, where its contents fluttered outward.

"Shoot," she muttered.

"Graceful as ever, hey Swan?" Sally teased, laughing.

"Clearly." Bella sighed, starting to pick up the paperwork. With a small jolt of worry, she realized it had been the file Jasper had assembled—the one that held what he'd found on David. She hoped Sally couldn't see any of the reports. They'd made her shudder, realizing how much worse things could have been. Sally didn't need more reminders of that kind of ugliness.

"Oh," Sally said, voice cracking. "Oh." She was staring at a piece of paper.

David's picture.

Bella's eyes widened, watching Sally's face collapse in on itself.

The sounds from downstairs seemed to have disappeared. The house was suddenly, and very eerily quiet.

"Sally?" Bella called softly.

Sally dropped the picture back onto Bella's desk, then wiped her fingers absentmindedly on her shirt.

"Why do you have his picture?" Sally stared at it, her breathing rapid and tight in her chest.

"You know him?"

Sally nodded. "From . . . there."

"I'm so sorry." Very tentatively, Bella held out her hand, feeling Sally's small fingers wrap around it.

After a moment, Sally asked her, "Did he—with you?"

"Yes," Bella breathed out. "That first night."

Sally's eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. Then she brought her arms around Bella.

They stayed there, silent except for their strained breaths, throats too tight for words.

When Bella felt like she could talk again, her voice was husky, but low with conviction. "I'm going to make sure he doesn't hurt you, or anyone else again, OK?"

She didn't expect Sally's bitter chuckle beneath her snuffly tears. "Let me know when. I'll give you a hand."

\- 0 -

Mr. Newton had offered Bella her job back but, hearing the strained tone in his voice and the sounds in the background of the phone call, Bella had known it would be awkward and uncomfortable to work there. She also didn't want to be a source of division within the Newton family.

Edward had countered her on this. "You're not responsible for their family dynamics, Bella."

"I know," she'd sighed. "But it would only aggravate things. I just—there's not much point, is there?"

"If you want the job, you should take it."

She had hesitated before speaking. She'd thought a lot about what the future might hold for them. She didn't need the job, really, but she wanted to prove her abilities to herself. It didn't need to be at Newton's though. "I think, considering our plans, I probably don't need to—financially anyway."

She had watched as Edward constrained what clearly wanted to be a wide smile. "No."

"I would like to get some experience, though," she'd continued, "and I heard that the library has some volunteer spots with their children's programs."

Edward's eyebrows had lifted in inquiry. "Do you like being around children?" His voice had been soft. She'd wondered if he worried that there wouldn't be any for her.

"I like their willingness to accept what they see."

"Mmm," Edward had said, his chest relaxing in what she'd thought was relief. "They're quite perceptive."

"Does that worry you, Mr. Cullen?" she had teased.

"Worry me? Not at all, because I stay away from them for just that reason."

"Really? Children got you scared?"

That had made him laugh. "Hardly, but if we want to be discreet . . ." He'd shrugged.

Remembering the conversation, Bella smiled to herself while she shelved the books she'd used for the last group of preschoolers. While reading one particular book to them, her voice had trembled as she'd struggled with the words.

"You're sad," a serious little boy had said.

"Yes," she'd conceded, when she had paused before turning to the next page.

"Their momma comes home," he'd whispered. "In the book. It's OK."

"Yes, she does, doesn't she?" She'd choked out.

He'd patted her knee. "S'OK. Keep going."

She had, managing to get to the end of the book without falling apart.

"I prefer Eric Carle myself," a familiar voice cooed behind her.

 _Owl Babies_ dropped from her hands, caught neatly by a pale one in front of her. "Sorry," Edward said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I know. I was just . . . lost in my thoughts."

"Yes," he said, looking at the books in her arms. "Ponderous depths." He tapped _Owl Babies_ with a finger.

She chuckled, shaking her head.

Holding the spine of the rescued book with one hand, Edward's other hand made the pages buzz under his thumb.

She realized, watching him put it down and look at her, that he'd actually read it. As in, scooped up the words as the pages zipped by.

Her mind boggled again at what he was capable of.

"I can see why it would leave you thinking." His hand found hers.

God help her if the tears weren't fresh again.

"It's just a kid's book."

His smile was soft, but he didn't offer more words.

She was grateful.

Instead, he picked up more of the books, and began shelving them.

She grabbed another handful and did likewise.

After a moment, he plucked a small board book from one of the low wooden spinners.

It was _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_.

He began reading it aloud, dropping his voice an octave, nearly singing out the syllables. He kept shelving with his other hand, his perfect rhythm unbroken.

" . . . one piece of cherry pie, one sausage—"

"Okay," she interrupted him, giggling, "what is it with that list of food?"

"What about it?" Edward asked.

"Well, first of all, it just seems like a weird picnic. Why would you have chocolate cake, pie, cupcakes, and ice cream cones at one picnic? That's a lot of dessert for one picnic hamper."

"Perhaps he enjoyed food from several hampers?"

"And the cherry pie . . . and the sausage? Please." She rolled her eyes.

"And what about those things do you find distasteful?"

"I don't. It's more the Freudian undertones I object to in a children's book."

Edward's chuckle was deep, and gratifying to hear. "Do you know what Freud would have said, Bella?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

"Sometimes, a piece of cherry pie is just a piece of cherry pie."

She snorted. "But a sausage is always—"

Edward resumed his reading, more loudly. Waving his free arm dramatically, he concluded, "And he was a beautiful butterfly!" Then he took a perfect and graceful bow.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Looks a lot more like a beautiful Vampire from where I'm standing," she whispered. .

He put the book down and came closer, sliding his arm around her waist. "Hardly. I don't change, but you do. And your daily metamorphosis is beautiful enough for me."

She rolled her eyes.

"Though your dietary requirements seem much more proscribed, and far less healthy: poptarts and lasagne."

She had been eating lasagne of late, the result of several attempts to recreate a favorite recipe of her grandmother's. There was a small colony of lasagne trays that had taken over the Cullens' freezer. She didn't mind repetitive meals, but Edward actively disapproved.

"Do I change so much?" she asked him seriously. "Every day?"

"Most wondrously and beautifully," he assured her.

"Well then, this caterpillar is finished for the day, and a bit hungry, so perhaps it's time to take her home." She cleared her throat. "And you can tell me all about how cherry pie and sausages are not Freudian references." Then she stood on her tiptoes, and whispered behind his ear. "Better yet, you can show me."

Edward's hand tightened around her waist, but his grin widened, and they left.

Very quickly.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	39. Eighteen

A/N for 2019-01-13: Many thanks to Eeyorefan12 for Beta-ing again. If you spot any errors though, they are all mine, as I tinkered with it afterwards.

There will be one more chapter after this, and then an epilogue, and this tale will be done. I've enjoyed this unplanned narrative jaunt, but will be grateful to have more time to devote to the story Elise de Sallier and I are working on.

Enjoy!

~ Erin

* * *

"You want to skip your senior year?" Edward asked her, eyebrows brushing his hairline.

"No," Bella said, smiling, "I said I wanted to home-school."

He didn't say anything for a bit. Then his mouth pulled down at the corners a bit, making a small frown. "You've made friends there."

"Sure, but I don't need to be there to keep them."

"No, but there would be a lot of milestones you'd be missing."

"Hardly." She shrugged, wiggling a bit on her seat on the couch.

Now Edward eyed her more carefully. He'd made an off-hand remark about her skipping school to spend her days with him just the other week, as they'd enjoyed the meadow.

"Are you doing this because you think it will please me?"

"No. Not at all." She grinned. "Sorry. Should I be?" She arched an eyebrow coyly.

"No." He smiled, and then sighed. "Are you sure? That this is what you want?"

"I am. I've never been keen on high school. I would've homeschooled if my mom had let me."

She had made a point of discussing this choice with Esme and Carlisle when Edward had been out hunting. They'd listened, and then counselled, asking some of the same questions Edward had. Then they'd left the decision in her hands.

He sat back a bit more on the sofa. "I can't see the course work taking you all year." When he looked up again, there was a glint in his eyes.

"What're you thinking?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I'm thinking that Paris is beautiful in the Spring."

Bella laughed at this incredible idea, but then let it slide into something possible. "I could probably splurge on Paris." She and Carlisle had met with the estate lawyer a few weeks prior. She wouldn't be wealthy when she inherited her parents' estates, but she'd have enough for college, and a trip, or a downpayment on a small home.

"Oh no," Edward said, shaking his head. "Paris would be my graduation gift to you."

She blushed at the notion, but made herself swallow, instead of objecting. She was working hard on accepting Edward's generosity graciously.

"That would be very . . . generous, as a graduation gift."

"Hardly. I'd be going with you." His lips left a soft kiss behind her ear. "In fact, I think I'm being rather selfish. I want to see Paris through your eyes. And I think Alice would like to tag along too. She likes the spring shows. Perhaps it can simply be a family holiday."

Bella chuckled.

"What?" he asked.

"Family holidays." Her throat spasmed briefly, but it passed. "Mom and I would go on super low budget road trips. You know, to see things like the world's biggest apple."

"Well. If you've covered the biggest apple, I'll just have to take you to see the giant pear."

"There's a giant pear?"

"No idea. But I'm sure we can find out."

They were both snorting with laughter now. When it ended, he said, "But I would like to take you to Paris. And Nice, and . . . everywhere." He was talking to her neck, as he nuzzled over it. "Where would you like to go, if you had your choice?"

Bella didn't have to think about it long. "Don't laugh."

"I won't," he whispered, kissing her shoulder.

"I'd love to see where Jane Austen lived."

"Hmm . . ." he murmured into her hair, "That would practically be educational. We could do that before you graduated." His lips kissed the corner of hers.

She sucked in a breath, logical thoughts fleeing on the exhale.

"And then after, we could go to Paris. The city of love." His lips had reached her ear. "I would like to take you to tiny cafes, and art galleries, and museums." His whispers lingered at her jaw and then his lips possessed hers.

Then he stopped.

"But only if you want," he said softly.

Bella blinked, still putting meaning to words.

He grinned widely, pulling back.

"You need to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Dazzling me."

"Really? You don't want me to do that anymore?" His finger trailed down the path his lips had left.

"Oh, no, I want you to do that, just not ask me questions while you're doing it."

He laughed, and she took advantage of his head being tipped back, making contact with the small V of space at his shirt. Her tongue swirled under her kiss and it was his turn to groan.

The sound morphed into one of disappointment.

Emmett's voice preceded him. "If this is what homeschooling looks like, I'm all for it." Leaning into the doorway, he added, "C'mon, we're gonna go play baseball. You in?"

"Nope," Edward called, without turning to look, "Busy homeschooling."

Bella laughed as Emmett rolled his eyes. "Kids," he said dramatically, and walked away.

Looking to return to the activities they'd been enjoying, Bella was disappointed to see Edward lean forward, arms on his knees. He was eyeing her left hand, where her engagement ring sat. "We could get married in England. At Jane Austen's estate."

The suggestion threw her, and she frowned slightly, trying to imagine. Trying to wrap her head around the logistics.

The cost.

Edward's face mirrored hers. "There's no rush, Bella. If you want to wait. I know you're young—"

"No," she rushed out. "I can't wait to marry you. It was the locale that surprised me."

"Have you moved on from Austen?" He asked lightly.

"As if." She grinned. "No, I just—I guess I've always imagined us being married...here."

"In Forks?"

"Yes," she said shyly, "and here. In this house."

Edward looked around the living room. "That would be easy enough to arrange."

"Only someone in your family would say a wedding is easy to arrange."

"Well, it is, really. Minister. Stuff. Guests. Done!" He gestured vaguely. "Of course, Alice usually handles the 'stuff' part. At least for Rose and Emmett. And you are in no way obligated to have Alice manage things."

"I wouldn't mind Alice helping."

Edward gave her the wariest of looks. "I'm not holding you to that, and neither will Alice."

Bella smiled. "OK." Then they just sat together, Bella wondering at the one thing they hadn't discussed. "We haven't settled on a date," she finally said.

"No," Edward said carefully.

She suspected that he hadn't wanted to rush, or pressure her.

A passing sting of doubt made her wonder if he wasn't certain.

Don't be stupid, she told herself. You love each other. He loves you.

He _loves_ you.

"Is there one you have in mind?" he asked softly. His posture was relaxed again, or it looked that way. Except, she could see a hint of tension in his back, the way he was sitting just shy of the sofa cushions.

There was a date, but it seemed ludicrous, and impossible. Too early. "Yes, but it's—it's totally unrealistic. Too soon. We wouldn't be able to make it work."

"What is it?" he asked.

"My birthday." She shrugged.

His eyes crinkled with a smile. "I would love that, though it would feel like I'd be getting the present."

Her laughter was topped with an easy smile. "I think you've got that backwards, but it's not enough time. I think a wedding takes more than—"

"A month? No," he said, practically scoffing. "Easily done." Then his face went taut and he almost stammered, "Unless you mean next year, which is lots of time—"

"No," Bella said, catching his face with her hands. "I meant my next birthday. My eighteenth."

"Then Bella Swan, I look forward to marrying you. On your birthday."

Bella started at the loud, excited squeal coming from somewhere in the house.

"Alice," Edward explained. "She loves weddings."

\- 0 -

Bella had never visited a bridal boutique before, but it was very clear that Alice had.

Esme looked at ease, pretending to sip her tea, and smiling graciously, while Alice authoritatively gathered a flock of white dresses, augmenting Bella's initial selections. While Angela and Sally seemed a bit more awkward, they made up for this deficiency with youthful and giddy exuberance.

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe how beautiful that one is!" Sally squeaked.

Bella wished she could agree.

"Erm..." she said, looking down at the satin and lace contraption.

"They can like it all they want," the shop attendant said brusquely, "but if it doesn't make you feel something, it's not for you." She looked sideways at Alice, who said nothing, flicking something off her nail. "No rush. Keep trying. You'll know when you find it."

They were eight dresses in, and Bella was beginning to feel like there was an unending parade of them coming at her.

"I think I might need a break," she said, as Alice's hand held out another garment bag.

"Just one more," Alice said. "Trust me. It's a good one."

They'd all been 'good ones' in someone's opinion. They just all seemed . . . too much. Not her.

"OK," Bella said. "One more."

Then she stopped.

"How many dresses do people try on?" she asked the attendant, who was unhooking what felt like a million buttons at the back of a voluminous ivory puffball.

"Oh, as few as five, and as many as fifty. All depends."

 _Fifty?_

Bella closed her eyes and thought some very bad words. Why had she thought this would be fun? She hated shopping. This was shopping on steroids.

No, this was torture.

"Last one, Alice. Then we're going for coffee."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

Bella couldn't even make herself look at the dress Alice had handed her. It was at least a natural fabric, the raw silk both soft, and rough under her fingers.

She was sure the woman helping her was glad the thing only had one zipper.

"There," she said, pulling it up.

Without looking in the mirror, Bella stepped outside the small changing room and onto the dais in front of the store's main bank of mirrors.

She'd never expected to want to cry. Not because of a dress.

It wasn't just because of the dress.

No.

The fabric gathered just like another dress she'd worn.

Just like the dress Edward had bought her.

This one was white, though, and its creamy length distinguished it from the black one he'd given her that first night they'd met.

The shoulders were delicately scalloped, but the cross-over v-neck slipped into delicate ruching under breasts, flaring out into a soft a-line that settled right at her ankles.

He'd saved her that night, and then she'd saved him from himself.

They'd saved each other.

"So, what do you think Bella?" Sally asked softly.

All the other women were very quiet.

"Think this is it," Bella croaked out.

In the mirror, Bella caught Alice's wink, and she smiled back, very, very softly.

\- 0 -

Billy slid the cup of tea towards Bella over the table. "So what brings you our way, kiddo?" he asked.

They'd had a nice catch up, but Billy didn't miss much, and Bella knew she'd stretched the small talk as far as it could go.

She looked into the cup, watching the loose leaves fall as she swirled it. "You know Edward and I are planning on getting married."

"Sure," he said, sipping from his own cup.

"Well, we set a date."

"Oh?"

Bella felt a stab of nerves. Was this pushing things, to ask this?

Billy sat, face placid, waiting.

Don't be a chicken, she told herself.

"And I was wondering if you would walk me down the aisle?"

Suddenly Billy was blinking, and wiping at his eyes. "Me?"

She couldn't quite make words anymore, so she nodded.

His voice was rough when he spoke. "I'd love to, Bella. I really would. 'Cept I can't."

"What?" she choked out.

Then he grinned. "Gonna have to roll you there instead."

She was so relieved, the laugh that bubbled up was something between a sob and a snort. Then she moved around the table and into his waiting hug.

"Thank you," she whispered.

They stayed that way for a bit, and then Billy spoke again. "I'm so sorry your Dad won't be here to see this Bella, but I'm glad I am. And I'll try to make all the bad jokes I know he'd want to."

Her face felt tired from the wide smile that she kept making. "I'm sure you'll do great."

Billy went back to his coffee. "Who should we have pushing me down the aisle with you?"

"That's usually Jake's job, isn't it?"

"It is," Billy said, nodding slowly. Warily.

"He could, if he's OK with that."

"I think Jacob can be OK with that."

"Good," Bella said, and went back to her tea, her expression free of the worry she'd worn there.

"You still haven't said when," Billy reminded her.

"Oh, um. . . . in a month."

Now Billy's eyes were wide. "Your Dad would go ballistic."

"Probably." Bella said. So would her mother. But maybe not. They hadn't met Edward.

No, she thought, they'd probably still be freaking out, even after meeting Edward.

But they weren't there, and she was.

"Does that change things for you?" she asked seriously.

"Sure," Billy quipped. "Gives me less time to work on my jokes."

Their laughter filled the small space of Billy's kitchen, seeming to rise up, and flood the air around them, so when Bella went home, it was with her heart trembling with joy.

\- 0 -

"Just don't let me fall down, OK?" Bella whispered to Billy, as they began their slow procession down the aisle Esme had set through the garden.

Edward stood, his back to her, waiting at the front, and it was there that she focused her attention.

He was Home.

And she was a certain eighteen steps from him.

She'd counted them when they'd rehearsed the day before.

A minimum of twelve long ones, or a more sedate eighteen.

Eighteen.

At step three, she had to remind herself that this was real, that it wasn't one of those botched, horrifying dreams that had haunted her in the weeks leading up to this. She wasn't going to trip. Even if Billy couldn't prevent it, she was sure Jacob would.

At step five, she felt the comb in her hair jostle slightly, and hoped it stayed put.

Sue Clearwater had come early, asking formally, and loudly from the door, "To see the Quileute Bride."

Alice's eyebrows had risen at that particular phrasing.

"Just upstairs," Esme had murmured. The sound carried in the house, and Bella caught all of this, glancing at Alice.

"What's up?" she'd asked softly.

Alice had only shrugged, shaking her head, eyebrows pinched together in uncertainty.

Sue's "Hi," to Bella had been shy. "I have something for you. Something blue, and something to remind you who your family is." Then she'd glanced nervously at Alice, who stepped back from where she'd been doing Bella's hair.

From her purse, Sue pulled out a small package wrapped in a soft cloth.

"Mrs. Ateara made this for you," Sue said, holding it out to her.

Bella had never met Mrs. Ateara, so she looked on curiously.

"She's one of our oldest council members." Sue had put the little parcel in Bella's hand. In it was a carved wooden comb, the top shaped into the body of the wolf, its legs and tail making up the tines of the comb. Set where the eye of the wolf would be, was a bright blue bead.

"It's beautiful," Bella had said in hushed tones, looking at Sue. "Thank you." Then she'd stood up and hugged her.

The braiding almost done, Alice had held out her hand for this token and slipped the comb into the back of Bella's hair.

At step eleven, Bella felt a stinging swell of emotion. Her parents weren't there. She almost tripped over herself.

Billy squeezed her hand.

She took a deep breath and kept walking.

She barely realized when Billy put her hand into Edward's, she was so lost in her fiance's bright amber eyes.

She did, however, catch Billy's very quiet words. "We're trusting you, Cullen. Don't make us regret it. We protect our own."

Edward's glance to Billy was quick and solemn, the nod almost imperceptible. But it was there.

The words of the ceremony were a blur. All that tied her to the earth were Edward's eyes and his solid hands in hers.

When Mr. Weber pronounced them husband and wife, she registered the relief of Edward's touch and the kiss that left her breathless. She was only rudimentarily aware of the cleared throats from the audience, then the open chuckles and murmuring.

She felt like she was beet-red when Edward pulled away.

"More later," he whispered, then turned her to face the small assembly of people and their enthusiastic applause.

She didn't count the steps on the way back down the aisle. There was no need.

She knew they ended in forever.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight.


	40. Honeymoon

A/N for 2019-01-17: This is the last regular chapter for this story. There will be an epilogue posted in the next few weeks, which will jump ahead in time and tie everything up with a nice little bow. In the meantime, if you'd like to hear about the collaboration that Elise de Sallier and I are working on, you can follow her author's page on facebook, or find me there (Erin Affleck).

Many, many thanks to Eeyorefan12 for Beta-ing this last chapter. I fiddled with the text after the fact, so all errors are my own.

Thank you to all of you for your wonderful engagement with this tale.

~ Erin Affleck

* * *

 _Edward tested his welcome as he kissed her, sliding further inwards. His shoulders registered the tight clench of her small fingers._

 _Too much._

 _Easing back, he tried again, their lips still locked in a singular embrace. She accepted him, an unearthly sound born in her throat._

 _God, the sensation. Her heat rippled up over him, seducing the better part of his mind. His thrusts became faster, and the sounds she made more frenzied._

 _Panicked._

 _It was the crunch of bone that sounded next, under his hands and hips. Then there was simply the hot rush of blood in his mouth—_

The grip of his horrific imagining ended with her nervous sigh, bringing him back to the present and Bella still standing beside him. He was aware of every wave that licked Isle Esme's shore.

Bella's eyes swept around the room. In this uneasy passage, her gaze seemed to snag on the bed.

He would not hurt her, he told himself.

Ever.

"Want to go for a swim?" he asked, trying to diffuse his own anxiety. "It's warm. Your kind of water."

She swallowed, still temporarily wordless.

After waiting for her to settle, he tried a different tack.

"There's a chess board too," he grinned. "Two weeks with no one to interrupt us—unlimited chess playing opportunities—"

Her elbow brushed his ribs, and he chuckled, hearing her disbelieving snort.

He slid his arms around her, his hands clasped together as he kissed her neck. Her pulse was a trapped bird, thrumming for escape against his lips.

Nerves, he told himself.

But her hand trembled.

Fear.

He sighed, partly out of contentment at her proximity, but more from a worry he wanted to conceal.

"There's no schedule," he murmured.

The tightening of her muscles answered him first. "Oh yes, there is."

She turned to face him, and caught his lips with hers.

Or tried.

His smile gave them an easy getaway.

"So eager to seduce me, Mrs. Cullen?"

"Been trying for months. Hoping this marriage thing did the trick."

His laugh was silent, but rocked them both.

Pulling away, he brought his fingers to his shirt, undoing the buttons. He savoured the sound of her inhale, drawn in like a quick triplet.

Edward slid off his shirt and dropped it to the floor.

"It certainly has," he said, grin wide. He removed his socks and shoes next. "But you'll have to catch me first. And I," he teased her, "will be in the water, if you want me." Then he turned and walked away, waiting until he reached the wet sand—where she wouldn't hear the sound of his belt being undone.

He exhaled as he stepped into the water, then waited, listening for her.

The sounds that drifted out over the water told their own tale. Slips and snaps of fabric, then the hiss of the shower.

When her feet finally whispered through the sand, he caught her quiet gasp as she spotted his discarded pants, and then her muttered, "Don't be a chicken!"

He almost laughed, but kept it in, facing away from shore. She was so brave and determined. His smile was wide by the time she stepped into the water.

Naked.

The soft and informative thud of towel and clothes against the sand had made his unnecessary breathing hitch.

Yes, he wanted this with her, more than he'd let himself express.

Now he could.

It terrified him.

She put a faith in him he hardly deserved, but he would make himself worthy of it.

It was torture, waiting on her slow steps towards his location.

He counted her excited pulls of air, inhaling deeply when her scent reached him.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered.

Finally, he allowed himself to turn, stunned by the revelation of her body.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Now he knew that the blush in her cheeks began at her torso.

Extending his arm, he reached to draw her close, hands on her exposed hips.

He rushed out the words. "I said we would try. But if I hurt you—"

"You won't."

"You must tell me."

She nodded solemnly.

He closed his eyes, trusting her, but afraid too. Would she tell him at first, or wait until it got worse—?

"Hey," She hushed out. "Where are you going?"

His eyes snapped open. "Nowhere."

"Good. Let's keep it that way." Her smile was luminous in the moonlight, and he wanted very suddenly, and very badly, to possess it. So he did, and she eagerly responded, her body eliminating all but a lick of water between them.

Their journey back to land was a drunken lurch, measured by giggles and then the less light-hearted dispensing of hurried breaths.

The tell-tale tremble in her hand returned by the time they made it to the bedroom, a chair dislodged from its footing in the process.

He'd never been so clumsy and singly-purposed in his immortal existence.

Now his focus was her, and she was making sounds of pleasure under his very careful touch.

While their hands had travelled the latitudes of each other's bodies, it had been over the rough textures of clothing. So, when Edward's fingers strayed into the uncharted waters of bare, southern realms, he was pleased to see her mirror him in exploratory movements.

Her brush by him was tentative.

His growling purr was not.

It emboldened her to return, and he moved his hands away from her body.

"Are you OK?" She asked, voice uncertain.

"Very."

After a moment, he was sure of his control, and returned his hands to her.

This time, he was direct with his destination, and the touch of his cold fingers pulled a small gasp from her.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

There was a garbled, but positive sound from her.

He kissed her, then let his tongue outline the shape of her lips. There were more phonetically incomprehensible sounds.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased, pausing so she would take a breath.

"No," she moaned, "but you can have it. Oh—"

"I'll just keep doing that then," he murmured, grinning.

Then she moved her hands, and it was his turn to find his tongue twisted around a groan.

"Me-ow," she purred in his ear.

He felt like he needed to breathe.

He didn't need to breathe.

He found himself blowing out all the air his lungs had taken in and then snatching it back again.

Then he rolled her onto her back in a smooth motion.

Her quiet, "I need you to stop," surprised him.

He did, immediately pulling away.

Her hand reached out and grabbed his arm. "It's OK. I just—" She blushed furiously. "I need to talk to you about something."

"OK." His own touch was tentative as he feathered his fingers over her hair.

"I'm nervous."

He smiled in relief. "Me too."

There was a pained sort of smile that flickered over her face. "I know." Her finger stirred over a stray wrinkle in the bedsheet. "I know you said I need to tell you if something hurts, but—"

"There are no but's with that, Bella." His voice sounded stern. Too stern. He watched her eyebrows twitch together nervously.

"Hold on. Let me finish," she said quietly.

It was his turn to twitch a bit. "Sorry," he murmured.

He was rewarded with the brush of her fingers over his. Even with all the physical intimacy they'd already shared, this tiny gesture felt rich with trust. He didn't disguise his speed in capturing her fingers, returning the movement.

"I'm afraid that it will hurt," she said. "Because it did last time. I know that's completely irrational. There's no physical reason for it to."

Edward's heart felt like it had spasmed.

Of course she was nervous. And he'd told her that she had to tell him if he hurt her.

He'd been a total, and complete ass.

An ass.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't nervous about that," he said.

"I know you're not going to hurt me."

The weight of her trust, after her last statement, felt like one of Emmett's body checks. He didn't say anything right away, trying to think of what he could that would walk the line he needed to.

"And I need you to believe that too."

He almost groaned. "I—"

"And before you say you can't, I have to say something else."

Edward made himself be quiet.

"I need you to believe it, because I think that, if you're as nervous as me, you're going to want to give up before we really try."

How true that was.

"You promised me you'd try."

He nodded.

"So if I look uncomfortable, or say I am, please don't freak out on me."

Now he smiled. "Freak out? I strike you as someone who does that?"

"Freak out? Frequently. At least, when it comes to me."

His sigh answered her.

He could believe in himself, if she needed it. But only if she needed it.

"OK. I promise to try, and to believe in myself. And not to 'freak out' . . . too much."

"Thank you," she said, and scooted closer to him, ending the conversation with a kiss.

He was only too happy to accept the proximity of her warmth, and willing flesh. Her arms pulled at him, and the position she wanted him in was very clear.

He held himself over her, bodies just brushing, but touching in delightful ways.

The pertinent part of his anatomy was pressed to her thighs. Her head rose up to bring their lips together.

"I want you," she whispered. "I want this."

He grinned, more because he knew it would put her at ease, than because he felt that way. "Now?"

She nodded.

Then her legs tensed more as he began to move, just slightly, letting these two points of their bodies become acquainted with each other.

He let the soft and regular swish of the waves outside be his guide, gently, gently bringing them closer and closer together.

When her hips angled upwards he resisted, pulling back, and stringing a low moan from her.

Physically, he understood her readiness, and his own too.

But he was terrified.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "I trust you."

Her small, delicate hands laced themselves over his cheeks.

"You won't hurt me."

And to think he'd imagined himself coaxing her through her own fears.

"You have so much faith in me," he murmured.

"It isn't misplaced."

Her hands slid to his shoulders, pulling him back towards her. This time he accepted her invitation, and that particular joining, which she had asked for, for so often, and so long, began.

Her entire body became still.

He paused, waiting, trying to keep his logical brain afloat, and to not drown in the sensations flooding his body.

"Are you OK?" He managed to gasp out.

She nodded, but her jaw was tight, and she didn't speak.

Her right hand trembled over his shoulder.

Not OK, then.

Waiting, for what he wasn't quite so certain, he watched a tear slide down her cheek.

He was hurting her.

He wanted to wrench himself away but, terrified of doing more harm, he moved back slowly, only to be met with the tightening of her grip, and a desperate "No!"

"I'm hurting you," he whispered, ashamed to even speak it.

"No, you're not." She wiped at the wetness in her eye.

"You're crying."

"I am, because this is just really . . . wonderful. Don't stop."

She wrapped her legs around his, not moving him but shifting enough of herself to bring them closer together.

This time, he knew the tension in her body was from discomfort.

"But go slowly, OK?" She whispered.

He nodded, trying to convince himself that all was well, straining to understand if this was normal, or if he was straying into a dangerous ignorance. It would be so easy to drop the minute care with which he was moving, to lose himself in her.

Her muscles were easing under him though, and the long moan that she made loosened his inhibitions.

She arched her head back and groaned when he slowed, teasing the skin at her clavicle with his tongue. When he slid lower, mouthing her nipple, she almost shouted and he stopped, immediately.

"No, don't stop!" she gasped. Her hands strained in his hair.

He returned just as quickly to his appointed task and he would've been grinning widely if the action allowed him to.

He was pleasing her.

Giving her pleasure.

His own body relaxed, and he let himself be lost—just momentarily—in the sweetness of her fingers, fluttering over his head.

Hooking his leg under her, he flipped them both over, so that she rested on top of him, in one smooth movement.

Her breathing became more rapid, and her eyes closed, head back, as her body tensed around him. It wasn't long before her breathing became an erratic explosion, a spasm rippling into his own flesh, causing his own, terrifying release.

His hands had flown off of her, shredding the fabric beneath him, as his hips bucked against her, drawing a sharp cry from Bella.

Everything in him screamed in horror. He was transfixed with it. He'd hurt her.

But then she opened her eyes, still panting, and and she brought her hands and lips to his face. "I love you." There were tears, but joyful ones, and her hands curled themselves around his head, trying to pull him even closer.

"I don't want to stop," she whispered. She was moving over him again.

His brain was registering something between awe and panic, while his body was ready to succumb to the pleasure of hers all over again.

"Bella, love, stop," he made himself say. "I love you too, but I need to ask, did I hurt you?—you cried out, was that—?"

"That was a good sound," she said, trying to squirm against an embrace that was almost a restraint. Then she stopped. "Is it a problem, if I—?" She sounded suddenly uncertain. Shy. Insecure.

"No! I just—I wanted to be sure."

"You can be sure." She was moving again, hands sliding downwards, cupping him intimately.

He growled. It was a feral sound that made her bones vibrate.

"Is that a good sound?" She asked, almost smirking.

He answered by reversing their positions. "A very good sound, Mrs. Cullen." He continued the movement she had begun.

By the time Bella's energy had been spent for the evening, Edward had no doubt as to what was, and was not a good sound. His only concern was how he might find new ways to entice her to make them.

\- 0 -

She didn't sleep much, and when she woke again, in the middle of the night, it took little to entice her new husband to join her in a sleepless interlude.

As they lay in bed, watching the moonlight make its slow retreat across the water, she finally dared to ask him what she'd wondered through the night.

"Was it what you expected?"

He blinked, and shifted, so he could see her face more easily. "Making love to you?"

"Yes." She blushed.

"It was so much more."

Her smile was wide, and made her eyes crinkle.

"It was perfect."

~ Fin ~

* * *

Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to S. Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.


	41. Epilogue

A/N for 2019-02-11: Thank you all, for your kind words in the reviews. Glad so many of you have stuck with this, and encouraged. Many thanks again to Eeyorefan12 for their Beta work. Any mistakes are my own, as I tinkered with the text afterwards.

Until next time!

~ Erin

* * *

"I'm not going anywhere," Edward said, frowning as he folded his arms and leaned back against the rough brick of the alley wall.

"Do you doubt me?" Bella asked. She arched a perfect eyebrow at him in question.

"Of course not. But it's habit for me to worry. Give me some time to adjust."

Bella huffed out an impatient breath and blinked uncomfortably. Her contacts still irritated her when she thought about them.

Yes, it had only been a month. Edward would lose his inclination to worry over her in time.

She needed to be patient. He had been.

"Besides, I'd like to see this," he added.

The growl that bubbled up from her throat was so primal that her mind barely registered it.

Edward glanced at her with concern, but said nothing.

She stopped the sound, grimacing a little.

"You're doing great," Edward murmured, his hand reaching out and brushing hers. The touch sent a shiver up her arm. Everything still felt so much more intense, especially with him.

Thoughts of other things they could do, instead of what they'd planned, tickled the periphery of her consciousness, but she wrestled her attention back to her task.

They waited a few minutes, scanning the street and then the bar where Edward knew David was.

"There he is," Edward whispered.

Bella followed his gaze. Her human memories were fuzzy, but clear enough for her to recognize him.

She let out a long sigh. She'd have liked to have dispensed with this ugly business as a human, but little Renée's surprising arrival had interfered with those plans.

Bella stilled what felt like a spasm in her chest. She had to remind herself that their baby was safe.

"What is it?" Edward asked.

"Renée." she answered. No other explanation was required.

She'd never thought she'd be so grateful for the ritual kinship that Billy and Jacob had insisted on, but it had saved her life—both human, and vampire. And her daughter's.

Because of that tie, Sam had been forced to keep his deep suspicions about the pregnancy in check. Edward told her later that Sam's fears were almost as strong as his own had been.

She had purposefully sought to remember as much of her human life as she could in her new vampire life. That small ceremony Billy had performed when he and Jacob had brought her home had made her as Quileute as they were, at least according to the tribe's customs.

That kinship hadn't prevented Sam from audibly making his concerns—and threats—known, but it had prevented him from acting on them prematurely.

She shivered a little, remembering his arrival at the house. She'd had to tell Edward not to throw him out, and then Emmett too.

They'd come to an arrangement with Sam, that if their baby was a danger, they would leave.

Edward hadn't said much about how he'd convinced Jacob to argue for the option to change Bella, if it was needed. She suspected it had been too painful for him to talk about; he had been so terrified for her.

She was now simply grateful for the outcome.

They were all safe.

And Renée . . . she sighed to herself. The image of her daughter's beautiful auburn curls and wide, trusting eyes floated in her mind.

"Be here with me, love." Edward hushed out.

She nodded, letting her eyes take in the scene before her.

"Humans are breakable," he reminded her for the umpteenth time, but then jerked his chin in the direction she was to go as he took a step backwards..

It was up to her now.

She watched as David walked down the street. His gait was steady, but there was an occasional misstep. His scent told her he'd been drinking.

Good.

That made this easier.

She followed him, staying just over a block behind, her own steps deliberately casual.

When her prey took a sharp right into a quiet side street, Bella increased her pace. The night, and its light drizzle meant there would be few eyes observing them.

He stepped abruptly into a convenient shadow, unzipping his fly, urinating against a building wall.

She waited unseen, nose wrinkling.

As he finished, Bella stepped forward, making her footfalls deliberately audible.

"Remember me?" she asked.

He whipped his head around, face paling as he caught sight of her.

A wave of pleasure rippled through her, witnessing the reaction her sight inspired. She smiled widely, and he took a pronounced step backwards. "Do you?" she asked, matching his movement.

He nodded.

"Good," she purred.

"What d'you want?" he asked, a slight tremble to his voice.

"I want your confession."

Then he stopped, a bubble of ugly laughter colouring his words. "And what's that . . . fucking some whores?"

Her growl was low and menacing. And just loud enough to be audible to him.

His laughter ended in a nervous swallow.

Slowly, Bella took another step forward, letting the streetlamp illuminate her form. She'd dressed in jeans and a plain black shirt, adding a deep blue leather jacket to the ensemble. It would look warm enough to keep the cold off of her and would deflect any dirt—or bodily fluids—that might land on it.

Not that she planned on there being many of those.

She had pointedly avoided thinking about what David had done. She hadn't wanted that memory sharpened as she entered into this life, but Edward's deliberate motions to silence the sound of his unbuckling belt told her that he was afraid of reminding her of something.

"Take off your belt," she said now.

"What?"

"Take off your belt."

"Fuck off," he said, and then unwisely—so unwisely—turned away.

She felt a moment of panic when she heard his head thunk against the concrete wall. Had she done it with too much force? Had she killed him?

There was no smell of blood though, and his eyes still seemed alert as they flicked back and forth in their wide sockets, searching for something.

Answers, perhaps.

"What are you?" he whispered.

"Right now, I'm the woman who's waiting for your apology."

"Apology for what?"

Her grip tightened.

"I'm so-rrry!" he sputtered out.

"For what?"

"For hurting you."

She growled.

"You were a prostitute—what did you expect?" he whined.

What _did_ she expect from men who used prostitutes?

Not much.

"You might not have known I was underage, but you knew the others were."

His stuttering heart confirmed this, but he said nothing.

She was growing impatient with him and put her hand to his groin, grabbing and twisting.

Bella hadn't realized men could shriek so loudly. So shrilly.

Letting go, she sighed with impatience.

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I'm sorry for what I did!"

"Good start," she muttered. "Keep going."

He did, words tumbling out in increasingly grizzly—and ugly—details.

When she'd heard enough, she hissed out a low, "Stop."

He did, like a well-trained dog.

"I'm going to leave you for the police. You're going to confess to everything you did. Just like you did right now, only you're going to tell them _everything_. Are we clear?"

He nodded.

"And if you don't, I'll know. Do you believe me?"

More nodding.

"Good. I _will_ know. And I will do everything you've ever done to those girls, and more, except with a nice big stick. Got it?"

"Yes."

He'd begun to sweat and the odour of it unearthed the spectre of that human memory. Her next words were hissed out in a low and guttural voice. "Give me your belt."

He didn't object this time, but pulled it off quickly, ripping one of his trouser loops as he hastily handed it to her.

She admired the angles David's body made, hands and feet tied together behind his back with his belt, face in the grass. The small park was well-treed, poorly-lit, and conveniently located a block away from the Tillamook State Police department.

She found an appreciable symmetry in these circumstances.

Before leaving him, she pinned a letter to his back that she, Edward, and Jasper had typed up, detailing his crimes.

"Enjoy waiting," she whispered, smiling. "I'm sure it won't be longer than I had to for you."

She had no plans to delay phoning her tip in, but she hoped he suffered while he had to wait. Wondering.

Worrying.

It almost felt like too petty a revenge, but within the realm of possible choices, it was a small one for an immortal creature to take.

His face was in the grass, lips moving in some silent supplication. Taking one last look at her handiwork, she disappeared into the shadows.

Edward was waiting a short distance away.

"Good work," he said.

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting his embrace. "Now let's go home."

Hands linked, they slipped into the night, ready to embrace the many possibilities an eternity together offered them.

\- Fin -

* * *

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.


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